Poetry

Peace Be With You

I found a nice poem talking about childhood

When I was young my dad would say
Come on son let's go out and play

No matter how hard I try
No matter how many tears I cry
No matter how many years go by
I still can't say goodbye

The poet :Major Roy James Blakeley (December 10, 1928 - July 22, 1965)

so my dear sis

if u read any nice poem plez
post it here
and let us share it with u

and u will be welcomed

thanks a looooot my dear sister

it's a verry good idea

welcome
moeamena it is very nice from you
thanks

nice letter

thnks dear

=)

really a very good idea
thanx alot mo'emena

تائبة كتب:: thanks a looooot my dear sister

it's a verry good idea

welcome taiba
I'm waiting 4 u

if u read any poem let us read it Poetry 748514

ام جنه كتب:: welcome
moeamena it is very nice from you
thanks

hi

hello um Jana

I'm happy
that u like the idea

طموحه كتب:: nice letter

thnks dear

=)

welcome
Tamoha

it isn't letter honey:x020:

it is poem
qaseda in Arabic

I'll be glad if u come back

سندريلا كتب:: really a very good idea
thanx alot mo'emena

ohh

tank Allah
u like it

come back my sis

"We Are Seven"

by William Wordsworth

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yes, it is long but it is great*
it is talking about children's concept about death

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A simple child...
That lightly draws its breath
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl-
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered 'round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said
And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell
And two are gone to sea."

"Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother
And in the churchyard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell
And two are gone to sea,
Yet, ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be."

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid
Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door
And they are side by side."

"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit
And sing a song to them."

"And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair
I take my little porringer
And eat my supper there."

"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain
And then she went away."

"So in the churchyard she was laid
And, when the grass was dry
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I."

"And when the ground was white with snow
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go
And he lies by her side."

"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little maid's reply,
"O master! We are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'T was throwing words away; for still
The little maid would have her will
And said... "Nay, we are seve

n!"

Hi

where r y ladies

y don't like the poem
do u?