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To: SevenofNine

Oh my, that is terrible. Thanks Seven.


696 posted on 06/10/2008 1:30:20 PM PDT by Soaring Feather (I soar- 'cause I can...)
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To: Soaring Feather

Hey, do you think any rich gal might hire me to be her chef?


700 posted on 06/10/2008 1:55:02 PM PDT by WayzataJOHNN ( Poetry is the jazz of words, laid down by a feeling soul.)
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To: MEG33; Lady Jag; WayzataJOHNN; NY Attitude; Lost Dutchman


Robert Frost - The Last Word of a Blue Bird

As told to a child

As I went out a Crow
In a low voice said, "Oh,
I was looking for you.
How do you do?
I just came to tell you
To tell Lesley (will you?)
That her little Bluebird
Wanted me to bring word
That the north wind last night
That made the stars bright
And made ice on the trough
Almost made him cough
His tail feathers off.
He just had to fly!
But he sent her Good-by,
And said to be good,
And wear her red hood,
And look for the skunk tracks
In the snow with an ax-
And do everything!
And perhaps in the spring
He would come back and sing."



701 posted on 06/10/2008 2:00:35 PM PDT by Soaring Feather (I soar- 'cause I can...)
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