Upon your shattered ruins whereThis vine will flourish still, as rare,As fresh, as fragrant as of old.Love will not crumble.
Time And Love
It’s no use crying over spilt evils. It’s better to mop them up laughing.Eleanor Farjeon
From the blood of MedusaPegasus sprang.His hoof of heavenLike melody rang.Eleanor Farjeon
He could not be captured,He could not be bought,His running was rhythm,His standing was thought;With one eye on sorrowAnd one eye on mirth,He galloped in heavenAnd gambolled on earth.And only the poetWith wings to his brainCan mount him and ride himWithout any rein,The stallion of heaven,The steed of the skies,The horse of the singerWho sings as he flies.Eleanor Farjeon
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