O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Photos of Steve's Weekend
I was here (click to embiggen).
To see these. Of which the nice guard walking toward me let me know, "No photos allowed.
In the National Gallery Sculpture Garden there was this weird tree growing.
And then we went to see the Titanoboa at the museum next door. Some little place called the Smithsonian.
And if you ever wondered if seeing the big museums are worth it, this is the quality of the fossils the Smithsonian puts on display.
Yeah, it's worth it.
And then, you know, because you're there you have to go see the big pointy thingie.