I have taken a few words, and a lot of enjoyment, from Prospero's speech in The Tempest, Act IV, Scene I - which, along with the Epilogue from the same play are my two favourite snippets of the Bard's work.

The speech in full (almost) is as follows:

You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort,
As if you were dismay'd; be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors
(As I foretold you) were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air,
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant faded
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.


Today's word:

naufrague (n.) a shipwrecked person, a castaway.

My much-treasured Christmas present for 2017 is a book by Paul Anthony Jones: "The cabinet of linguistic curiosities". Each page contains a descriptive story about some obscure or archaic word. It occurred to me it would be a fun exercise to try and write, each day, a poem featuring the "word of the day" from the book.

Thanks for reading.

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.