By:Ralph Waldo Emerson Our angel, in a stranger's form Or woman's pleading eyes; Or only a flashing sunbeam In at the window-pane; or Music pours on mortals Its beautiful disdain. The inevitable morning Finds them who in cellars be; And be sure the all-loving Nature Will smile in a factory. Yon ridge of purple landscape, Yon sky between the walls, Hold all the hidden wonders In scanty intervals. Alas! the Sprite that haunts us Deceives our rash desire; It whispers of the glorious gods, And leaves us in the mire. We cannot learn the cipher That's writ upon our cell; Stars taunt us by a mystery Which we could never spell.
By:e.h There's a truth not many know, About the world while you're asleep: That the wind slips through your window, To steal the secrets that you keep, And if you don't believe me, Then you're welcome to your doubt, But have you never stopped to wonder, What it's whispering about? What else in the world, Could make the treetops bend and sway, but the weight of all the words, That no one ever dared to say? And since it's while you're sleeping, Secrets are easiest to take, It's no suprise those with the deepest, Are the ones kept wide awake.
By:Barbara Vance I raked the leaves on our front lawn; It took all afternoon. I started at 'round half past one and said, "I'll be done soon." But once I saw how more leaves fell Each time I made a pile, I quickly saw this outdoor chore Was going to take a while. And so I did what my dad said A winner does to win: I studied that great pile of leaves, And then I jumped right in.
No lines are longer than 80 characters, TYVM. Other specified properties aren't being scored automatically at this time so this is not necessarily good news...