😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
I cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream,
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name;
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded in the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands.
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and hold her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
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Originally posted by BowmannBowmann, you're so...........😴
To put one brick upon another,
Add a third, and then a fourth,
Leaves no time to wonder whether
What you do has any worth.
But to sit with bricks around you
While the winds of heaven bawl
Weighing what you should or can do
Leaves no doubt of it at all.
Philip Larkin, 1951
Originally posted by BowmannThat's very brucky.
To put one brick upon another,
Add a third, and then a fourth,
Leaves no time to wonder whether
What you do has any worth.
But to sit with bricks around you
While the winds of heaven bawl
Weighing what you should or can do
Leaves no doubt of it at all.
Philip Larkin, 1951
😴
Originally posted by NordlysTo put one bruck upon another,
That's very brucky.
😴
Add a third, and then a fourth,
Leaves no time to wonder whether
What you do has any worth.
But to sit with brucks around you
While the winds of heaven bawl
Weighing what you should or can do
Leaves no doubt of it at all.
For Boiled Chicken