POETRY WEDNESDAY: Oh, why not this, from the Swan of Avon:

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,

And like enough thou know’st thy estimate:

The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;

My bonds in thee are all determinate.

For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?

And for that riches where is my deserving?

The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,

And so my patent back again is swerving.

Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing,

Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking;

So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,

Comes home again, on better judgment making.

Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,

In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

And for those who feel that science is the best poetry, here’s my results from the MSNBC science quiz. Link via Tepper via Hsieh. Be thankful I’m out there building our country’s strategic fiction arsenal rather than, say, our weapons. (If that link didn’t work, I got an 89%–all but the last question right.)