Waking with dew drops
Unfaded spring that blossoms
With fragrance splendid and sprightly,
You and you alone make me feel life
Like waking at dawn with dew drops
Other men have seen angels,
But I have fallen for you
and thou art enough.
Waking with dew drops Unfaded spring that blossoms With fragrance splendid and sprightly, You and you alone make me feel life Like waking at dawn with dew drops Other men have seen angels, But I have fallen for you and thou art enough. |
Author's Comments
my first try in writing found poetry
constrcucted from quotations written by: Pedro Calderon de la Barca George Edward Moore |
Details
August 16, 2008
387 bytes Statistics
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Comments
That's a very sweet poem. That someone very special is very lucky to have a poem like that written about them
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When life gives you lemons, write about it.
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"He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar."
"Oh, well I never, was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mister Mistofelees?"
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“Death, the only immortal who treats us all alike, whose pity and whose peace and whose refuge are for all—the soiled and the pure, the rich and the poor, the loved and the unloved.” —Twain’s last written statement
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“Death, the only immortal who treats us all alike, whose pity and whose peace and whose refuge are for all—the soiled and the pure, the rich and the poor, the loved and the unloved.” —Twain’s last written statement
--
“Death, the only immortal who treats us all alike, whose pity and whose peace and whose refuge are for all—the soiled and the pure, the rich and the poor, the loved and the unloved.” —Twain’s last written statement
--
"He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar."
"Oh, well I never, was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mister Mistofelees?"
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it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful
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"His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free. " Unknown
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“Death, the only immortal who treats us all alike, whose pity and whose peace and whose refuge are for all—the soiled and the pure, the rich and the poor, the loved and the unloved.” —Twain’s last written statement
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