- From: Jo Rabin <jo@linguafranca.org>
- Date: Sat, 09 Oct 2010 12:27:08 +0100
- To: Public BPWG <public-bpwg@w3.org>
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.
Received on Saturday, 9 October 2010 11:27:44 UTC