was mine rubbish :o he's just showing off! :rolleyes:
okay...that's me done then, perhaps the limericks are as bad as the singing?! at least you lot can't hear that!!
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X-runner - describes mey experiences in the pennines to a tee. Wonderful stuff. and I've never seen the word 'grough' before.
By the river
Hu Shih
(1915)
Screened by the trees the sound of the brook is a soft jingle;
To welcome us the birds sing in a chatter.
Together we have penetrated the quiet path along the winding stream;
I for you collect berries,
You bedeck my hair with blossoms.
Anon we sit together on the water -brink,
With a tree to shade the haughty sun.
Deep in talk we reck naught of the evening rooks:
At this hour there is only you and I,
And what room is there for them?
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.
Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.
Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.
Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.
Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.
From the Princess
A L Tennyson