Posted on 04/24/2006 8:55:04 PM PDT by Soaring Feather
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Fantastic!! WOW really good!
Okay, I am going to stroll into the Black, Warm, Velvet of Sleep. 
Okay, I am going to stroll into the Black, Warm, Velvet of Sleep. 
Nighty night
Nighty night
The Conqueror Worm 
by Edgar Allan Poe 
 
Lo! 'tis a gala night 
Within the lonesome latter years! 
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight 
In veils, and drowned in tears, 
Sit in a theatre, to see 
A play of hopes and fears, 
While the orchestra breathes fitfully 
The music of the spheres. 
 
Mimes, in the form of God on high, 
Mutter and mumble low, 
And hither and thither fly- 
Mere puppets they, who come and go 
At bidding of vast formless things 
That shift the scenery to and fro, 
Flapping from out their Condor wings 
Invisible Woe! 
 
That motley drama- oh, be sure 
It shall not be forgot! 
With its Phantom chased for evermore, 
By a crowd that seize it not, 
Through a circle that ever returneth in 
To the self-same spot, 
And much of Madness, and more of Sin, 
And Horror the soul of the plot. 
 
But see, amid the mimic rout 
A crawling shape intrude! 
A blood-red thing that writhes from out 
The scenic solitude! 
It writhes!- it writhes!- with mortal pangs 
The mimes become its food, 
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs 
In human gore imbued. 
 
Out- out are the lights- out all! 
And, over each quivering form, 
The curtain, a funeral pall, 
Comes down with the rush of a storm, 
While the angels, all pallid and wan, 
Uprising, unveiling, affirm 
That the play is the tragedy, "Man," 
And its hero the Conqueror Worm. 
The Valley Of Unrest 
by Edgar Allan Poe 
 
Once it smiled a silent dell 
Where the people did not dwell; 
They had gone unto the wars, 
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars, 
Nightly, from their azure towers, 
To keep watch above the flowers, 
In the midst of which all day 
The red sunlight lazily lay. 
Now each visitor shall confess 
The sad valley's restlessness. 
Nothing there is motionless- 
Nothing save the airs that brood 
Over the magic solitude. 
Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees 
That palpitate like the chill seas 
Around the misty Hebrides! 
Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven 
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven 
Uneasily, from morn till even, 
Over the violets there that lie 
In myriad types of the human eye- 
Over the lilies there that wave 
And weep above a nameless grave! 
They wave:- from out their fragrant tops 
Eternal dews come down in drops. 
They weep:- from off their delicate stems 
Perennial tears descend in gems. 
 Quote from Dr. Joyce Brothers, 
 
 
 "The best proof of love is trust." 
 
 
 
 
Today is Wednesday, April 26, the 116th day of 2006 with 249 
to follow. The moon is waning. The morning stars are Mercury, 
Venus, Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto. The evening stars 
are Mars and Saturn.

Good to hear from you. 
 
Oh, how I miss Spring 'up there' - the crocus, dogwood, redbud, forsythia, iris, daffodils, May apples - real plants, real grass, real trees! Enjoy them all!
Ah yes, Judy you describe it so well! 
 
Out the back door I look into a panoramic view of colour, albeit chilly today. ;) 
 
Afternoon, Ms Feather!
Afternoon, Tom!


Morning, Ms Feather!
Good morning, Tom!
 Laurence J. Peter who said, "Fortune knocks but once, but misfortune has much more patience." 
 
 
 
 
Today is Thursday, April 27, the 117th day of 2006 with 248 to 
follow. The moon is new. The morning stars are Mercury, Venus, 
Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto. The evening stars are Mars 
and Saturn.
Road Not Taken, The 
by Robert Lee Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 
And sorry I could not travel both 
And be one traveler, long I stood 
And looked down one as far as I could 
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 
   
Then took the other, as just as fair 
And having perhaps the better claim, 
Because it was grassy and wanted wear; 
Though as for that, the passing there 
Had worn them really about the same, 
   
And both that morning equally lay 
In leaves no step had trodden black 
Oh, I kept the first for another day! 
Yet knowing how way leads on to way, 
I doubted if I should ever come back. 
   
I shall be telling this with a sigh 
Somewhere ages and ages hence: 
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -- 
I took the one less traveled by, 
And that has made all the difference. 
   
   
 
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