[Soaring Feather]

Good Sunday Morning to The Lair.

To Nature


It may indeed be phantasy, when I
Essay to draw from all created things
Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
Lessons of love and earnest piety.
So let it be ; and if the wide world rings
In mock of this belief, it brings
Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
So will I build my altar in the fields,
And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
Thee only God ! and thou shalt not despise
Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice

By: Samuel Taylor Coleridge

[tongue-tied]

Good Morning Ms. Feather!

And a
Woo Hoo for 1800!

[Lady Jag]

In Time Of Silver Rain

In time of silver rain The earth Puts forth new life again, Green grasses grow And flowers lift their heads, And over all the plain The wonder spreads Of life, Of life, Of Life! In time of silver rain The butterflies Lift silken wings To catch a rainbow cry, The trees put forth New leaves to sing In joy beneath the sky As down the roadway Passing boys and girls Go singing, too, In time of silver rain When Spring And life Are new. By: Langston Hughes

[Kathy in Alaska]

wh!!

ms feather.....#1800!!!