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A clash of hockey sticks, a clash
Of temperaments, a proper pash
For Emmeline the prefect who
Once definitely smiled at you,
A word of praise from Miss Divine,
A midnight feast with currant wine
(A ciggie takes the taste away)
A nasty tummy ache next day,
A bike-ride and a horrid prang,
An assignation with the gang,
Jo, Belinda, Dorcas, Prue,
Thick as thieves and tried and true,
Perfect angels, utter bricks,
The Sisterhood of Study Six.
Life is earnest, life is real,
Life is everything you feel.
Secrets, whispered to the breeze,
Tremble in the chestnut trees,
Rustle where the cricket sings,
Tell us such romantic things,
Give us hope and give us wings.
“…but I can never know if the sensation I call “red” is the same as that of my neighbour.”
This is absurd. First, the colour of anything depends on the ambient light. Second, my neighbour and I can point to various objects and discuss their apparent colour. The author’s statement can only work in a world without communication.