I sat with chill December
Beside the evening fire.
"And what do you remember,"
I ventured to inquire,
"Of seasons long forsaken?"
He answered in amaze,
"My age you have mistaken;
I've lived but thirty days."
Join a vibrant community where authors, poets, writers, and readers unite
Read about what our members and others are saying about our Book Club
We have a great selection of books for you to maximise your reading and vocabulary practice
In The Green Mountains by Jessie Rittenhouse I dare not look away From beauty such as this,Lest, while my...
The Brook by Alfred Tennyson I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sallyAnd sparkle out among the fern,...
The Woodpecker by Elizabeth Madox Roberts The woodpecker pecked out a little round holeAnd made him a house in the...
0 Comments