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And so she went sadly away, And I know that my eyes were wet. Ah, not to my dying day Will I forget, forget Can you wonder now I am gay? God bless her, that little Fleurette! Robert W. Service Did you ever stop to think that there are many things all about us that we never see or hear simply because we do not notice them or think about them ? Perhaps few of us could see coming of the morning as the poet saw it, and as he tells about it in these lines. Day had awakened all things that be, The lark, and the thrush, and the swallow free, And the milkmaid's song, and the mower's scythe, And the matin bell and the mountain bee; Fireflies were quenched on the dewy corn, Glowworms went out, on the river's brim, Like lamps which a student forgets to trim; The beetle forgot to wind his horn, The crickets were still in the meadow and hill; Like a flock of rooks at a farmer's gun, Night's dreams and terrors, every one, Fled from the brains which are its prey, From the lamp's death to the morning ray. Percy Bysshe Shelley We hear much of the glory of war, yet what an awful thing war is ! Trouble arises between nations, perhaps a dispute over territory or the right to sources of natural wealth. such as coal or oil fields, and war is declared. Then men go out and shoot and gas and bayonet one another by thousands-as if doing that could ever settle what is right and what is wrong in the matter! This little poem draws a picture of war |
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