A farewell to flies
Yesterday, I did my last experiment on flies (at least for the time being). I was happy because that brings to an end a nice PhD but, I was equally sad too. Sad because, I have learnt a lot from these tiny yet useful organisms. An Amazingly beautiful organism to work with- Drosophila. Hah! How much I am going to miss these beautiful organisms. When I was looking at them through the microscope yesterday, somewhere along it hit me, this is it. Believe me I just increased the magnification and kept looking at each part of the fly and it felt as if I am looking at them for the first time. I had the same wonder! The big red (sometimes scarlet and white!) eyes staring back at you through the microscope- and more sense of wonder and amazement. Oh! How much I love these flies. They were the major part of my life the last five years. My life revolved around them but alas!, not anymore. I am thankful to them. I learnt a lot these five years thanks to them.
I am not good at poetry but, I kind of like these Wordsworth’s poems and these are dedicated to the love of my life of the past five years-an Ode to them!
SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS
SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
--Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
TO A BUTTERFLY (to the fly)
I'VE watched you now a full half-hour;
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!--not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.
