JemimaPuddleDuck

The sun will rise again, it will: tomorrow morning, in the east. The clock will not stand dead and still; time will trudge on, the way it has for centuries, ...

A shadow of his former self: his body weak; his mind still strong as ever. Days spent in one room are whiled away with idle dreams. He climbed a mountain, ...

And she came home to dinner that evening: the personification of spring. Rosy cheeks and the sweet scent of blossom, and beauty with her did she bring. She rushed through ...

sky: subtly blushed with crimson by way of indefinable prophesy; and, soft as cotton, purest of mists settled, obscuring all sight. Such was the essence of magic. It lingered, sweet ...

If a swan, in its pure white elegance, was capable of the constant flittings of a bumblebee; If the solid oak, with roots deep would yeild the sweet elder's blossom; ...

Heavy lie the words unspoken: pressed unto the brave man's heart; from warm elysium awoken oft, and listens in the dark. Another's slumber also broken; he sits- wonders how to ...

Oh! Joyful the sound of the pitter and patter- its fingers on glass, they do long to reach in; and she listened and watched all day long, as the gutters, ...