‘ He is a Golly wog,

He has a black face,

He wares a white collar.


The summer sun is sinking low,

Only the tree tops redden and glow,

only the weather cock on the spire,

of the church is flame of fire,

All is in shadow below.


The mountain and the squirrel had a quarrel and

the former called the latter little prig:

bun replied,you are doubtless very big,

but all sorts of things and weather, must be taken together to make up a year and a sphere,

i shall not deny you to make a very pretty squirrel track,

talents differ and all is wisely put,

if i cannot carry forest on my back,

neither can you crack a not.


for want of a nail the shoe was lost,

for want of a shoe, the horse was lost,

for want of a horse, the rider was lost,

for want of a rider, the battle was lost,

for want of a battle, the kingdom was lost,

All was lost for a Horse shoe nail.



What is the thing called light, which i must never enjoy,what are the blessings of sight,oh tell me your poor blind boy

You talk of wonderous things you say the sun shines bright,i feel him warm,but how can he make it day or night.

My day or night, myself i make, When ever  i sleep or play, and could i ever keep awake with me twear always day.


Home they brought her warrior dead, she nor swooned nor uttered cry, all her maidens watching said she must weep or she will die.

Then they praised him, soft and low, called him worthy to be loved, truest friend and noblest foe, yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,set her child upon her knee, like summer tempest came her tears,sweet my child i live for thee.


(Alfred Lord Tennyson)


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