tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98260882011-04-21T17:33:04.644-07:00Henry Buchyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07242865392372428451noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9826088.post-1170459105243855992007-02-02T15:31:00.000-08:002007-02-02T15:31:45.280-08:00<a href="http://illmadeknight.blogspot.com/">Ill made knight</a><br /><br />"Break, Break, Break"<br />Break, break, break,<br />On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!<br />And I would that my tongue could utter<br />The thoughts that arise in me.<br />O well for the fisherman's boy,<br />That he shouts with his sister at play!<br />O well for the sailor lad,<br />That he sings in his boat on the bay!<br />And the stately ships go on<br />To their haven under the hill:<br />But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,<br />And the sound of a voice that is still!<br />Break, break, break,<br />At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!<br />But the tender grace of a day that is dead<br />Will never come back to me.<br /><span style="color:#000000;">By ALfred Lord Tennyson</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9826088-117045910524385599?l=illmadeknight.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Henry Buchyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07242865392372428451noreply@blogger.com3