| Haunted |
08-11-2005 07:46 AM |
Quote:
Originally posted by ItsAlive75
Aight. I give you a poem by Robert Frost.
I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.
O'er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
But lbuie loves the smell of dudes' farts.
|
You know I typically don't like Robert Frost. With the exception of Poe and Dickenson, I'm not a real American poet fan. However, that was a good poem.
Anyway...
Shanksie, I'll never get tired of HIGHPRIEST WISE jokes, but you're right, the "effect" is over done. It seems we be plagued by a deadly pestilence, some scourge from the out lands of cyber-space. |
