"An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom."
"An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom."
If you love realistic fiction with characters to love and cry with, to engage with a story that pulls you from one page to the next (where you might suddenly find yourself halfway through the book!), this is the series for you.
It is that time of year again when we gather with family and friends, celebrating the season's particular feasts and memories, and I find myself contemplative. It is somewhat interesting, and maybe a bit sad, that we call these last couple months of the year The Holiday Season. In reality, there are holidays, and Holy …
Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying …
Continue reading Poetry: Thomas – Do not go gentle into that good night
"The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never any more the dead."