For every day her attention was not elsewhere led, the universe would make its loving advance
Darkness seems to lie in wait - in every shadow that we make
Sometimes we have to choose to not take ourselves too seriously - Ooo... So here's a poem. Bye. Oooo. (Bayou???)
What a hopeless phrase. What a terribly, terribly hopeless phrase.
Through stained glass windows are partridges//Singing in the boughs//Reciting favorite passages//That pleasantly could rouse//The dear elven-child//From his lovely dream//And with a lovely, toothless smile//His candor would brightly beam