This happy occasion reminds me of a sonnet I once wrote:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Richard III wrote:
Frankly, your thread is not nearly saxy enough for me. I thought you were angling for me to crown it, or at least enthrone myself upon it, but now I feel like you are yorking me around. At least you finally gave me the londown on this thread. It's a brit of a disappointment, but maybe it's all dover now.
Ugh I don't think your puns rose to the occasion. :P