slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon.
ut look, the dawn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.

I hope you dance - Lee Ann Womack

I hope you never lose your sense of
wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you
never take one single breath for granted,
God forbid love ever leave you
empty handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that youll
give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or
dance.

I hope you dance....i hope you dance.

I hope you never
fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least
resistance
Livin might mean takin chances but theyre worth takin,
Lovin
might be a mistake but its worth makin,
Dont let some hell bent heart leave
you bitter,
When you come close to sellin out reconsider,
Give the
heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice
to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance....i hope you dance.
I hope
you dance....i hope you dance.
(time is a wheel in constant motion always
rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder
where those years have gone.)

I hope you still feel small when you stand
beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that youll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the
choice to sit it out or dance.

Dance....i hope you dance.
I hope you
dance....i hope you dance.
I hope you dance....i hope you dance..
(time
is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along
Tell me who wants to
look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone

it's so very meaningful. :D
i don't know, i hope this song um, brightens your day or something like it did me. :D
this is corneyyyyyyy.
but the fact still remains that this song is beautiful. :}
yup.
and there's some pretty poems:


The Fog

Slowly, the fog,
Hunch-shouldered with a grey face,
Arms wide, advances,
Finger tips touching the way
Past the dark houses
And dark gardens of roses.
Up the short street from the harbour,
Slowly the fog,
Seeking, seeking;
Arms wide, shoulders hunched,
Searching, searching.
Out through the streets to the fields,
Slowly, the fog -
A blind man hunthing the moon.

F.R. MCCREARY


aren't the words pretty?
it's like, you can picture it out already.
here's another:

Winter the huntsman

Through his iron glades
Rides Winter the Huntsman
All colour fades
As his horn is heard sighing

Far through the forest
His wild hooves crash and thunder
Till many a mighty branch
Is torn asunder.

As the red reynard creeps
To his hole near the river,
The copper leaves fall
And the bare trees shiver,

As night creeps from the ground,
Hides each tree from its brother,
And each dying sound
Reveals yet another.

Is it Winter the Huntsman
Who gallops through his iron glades,
Cracking his cruel whip
To the gathering shades?

OSBERT SITWELL

i like the second last verse the most.
"As night creeps from the ground,
Hides each tree from its brother,
And each dying sound
Reveals yet another."



Pretty pretty words.
i wish i could write like that.
i don't know, i used to wonder why people found words pretty.
it's like, a spiderweb.
not those dark gloomy grey dusty spooky ones, those large and shimmering ones.
{okay, that was the worse attempt at poetry in my life.}
i'm poetically pathetic.
ahhhh well.




Maid November - with her swift star clad feet - passes with danity steps.