Life and family is loaned to you,
You don't own them,
You must earn them
Life and family is loaned to you,
You don't own them,
You must earn them
And he was very tired.Originally Posted by Al Fowler
Goodnight all.
See you soon.
x
Sleep well Harry
Night night Harry, speak soon
i like
Night HHH, sweet dreams.x
In Hilly Wood
How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs,
Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me;
Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs,
But not an eye can find its way to see.
The sunbeams scarce molest me with a smile,
So thick the leafy armies gather round;
And where they do, the breeze blows cool the while,
Their leafy shadows dancing on the ground.
Full many a flower, too, wishing to be seen,
Perks up its head the hiding grass between.-
In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be;
Where all the noises, that on peace intrude,
Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee,
Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.
John Clare
At the Great Gate
Now I shall take my boat again
and row out through the grey rain
to the cold salt blaze of the sun
I shall rock out there in the loneliness
the silence that is no man's business
till the winds open and let me pass
to the sudden crying of a hundred gulls
Kenneth White
gorgeous hes, just lovely...think i'll turn in soon, night night xxx
In my sky at twilight
In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.
The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!
You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.
You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.
Pablo Neruda
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