Josef Hruška
Celkem 69543 komentářů
13:35:15 21.10.2005
With blackest moss the flower-plots
Were thickly crusted, one and all:
The rusted nails fell from the knots
That held the pear to the gable-wall.
The broken sheds look'd sad and strange:
Unlifted was the clinking latch;
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch
Upon the lonely moated grange.
She only said,'My life is dreary,
He cometh not,' she said;
She said,'I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!'
jen mi to tak připomělo...
Were thickly crusted, one and all:
The rusted nails fell from the knots
That held the pear to the gable-wall.
The broken sheds look'd sad and strange:
Unlifted was the clinking latch;
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch
Upon the lonely moated grange.
She only said,'My life is dreary,
He cometh not,' she said;
She said,'I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!'
jen mi to tak připomělo...
13:17:55 21.10.2005
cobrej nápad :o) trochu by to chtělo si pohrát s kompozicí a neřezat nožičky ;)
