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Posts Tagged ‘sweet’

nEMtdj8

Did purple
Ever look so good?
Oh, how sweet!

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photo by Nicolas Raymond at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nEMtdj8/Purple+Icing+Texture

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

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mhiEeiM

No sound made.
Flower carillon
Chimes beauty.

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photo by Michal Zacharzewski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhiEeiM/Bell+flower

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

—————————–

© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.
 

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Ye banks and braes, and streams around
The castle o’ Montgomery,
Green be your woods and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There Summer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel,
O’ my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloomed the gay, green birk,
How rich the hawthorn’s blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasped her to my bosom!
The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o’er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi’ monie a vow and locked embrace
Our parting was fu’ tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder.
But O, fell Death’s untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kissed sae fondly:
And closed for ay, the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly;
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo’ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom’s core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

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………………I Had A Dove

I had a dove and the sweet dove died,
And I have thought it died of grieving:
O, what could it grieve for?  Its feet were tied
With a silken thread of my own hand’s weaving;
Sweet little red feet! why should you die –
Why should you leave me , sweet bird! why?
You liv’d alone in the forest-tree,
Why, pretty thing! Would you not live with me?
I kiss’d you oft and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?

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