Classic poem of the day
By Allan-side I chanc'd to rove,
While Phebus sank beyond Benledi;
The winds were whispering thro' the grove,
The yellow corn was waving ready:
I listen'd to a lover's sang,
And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony;
And ay the wild-wood echoes rang —
O dearly do I lo'e thee, Annie. —
O happy be the woodbine bower,
Nae nightly bogle make it eerie;
Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,
The place and time I met my Dearie!
......
Member poem of the day
The first of her
came to me on the first night.
She was a woman of mystery
who sang the blues.
The second of her
came to me on the second night.
She had a history
like no other.
The third of her
came to me on the third night.
She was bright and cheery
and full with the fire
that makes life.
The fourth of her
came to me on the fourth night.
The fire was catastrophic.
The blue ......
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