[agenda] BPWG 2010-10-12 Cancelled, and Sonnet 73

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[agenda] BPWG 2010-10-12 Cancelled, and Sonnet 73

Jo Rabin
The transition call presaged by the minutes of the last meeting [1] has
not taken place and won't take place before next Tuesday, so we won't
hold a meeting next week.

[1] http://www.w3.org/2010/09/28-bpwg-minutes.html

Meanwhile, instead, here's Shakespeare's Sonnet 73, which I am sure he
intended as a metaphorical allusion to the status of the BPWG.

Jo

LXXIII

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.



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RE: [agenda] BPWG 2010-10-12 Cancelled, and Sonnet 73

Scheppe, Kai-Dietrich-2
:-)

As long as the focus lies on the last line the preceeding lines could be attributed to a life lived and to work done.
However this is all the more fitting as the year has entered fall and nears its end.

-- Kai

> -----Original Message-----
> From: Jo Rabin [mailto:[hidden email]]
> Sent: Saturday, October 09, 2010 1:27 PM
> To: Public BPWG
> Subject: [agenda] BPWG 2010-10-12 Cancelled, and Sonnet 73
>
> The transition call presaged by the minutes of the last
> meeting [1] has not taken place and won't take place before
> next Tuesday, so we won't hold a meeting next week.
>
> [1] http://www.w3.org/2010/09/28-bpwg-minutes.html
>
> Meanwhile, instead, here's Shakespeare's Sonnet 73, which I
> am sure he intended as a metaphorical allusion to the status
> of the BPWG.
>
> Jo
>
> LXXIII
>
> That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves,
> or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake
> against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
> In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset
> fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take
> away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
> In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes
> of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed, whereon it must
> expire, Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
> This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To
> love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
>
>
>
>