In winter, when the fields are white,
I sing this song for your delight -
In spring, when woods are getting green,
I'll try and tell you what I mean.
In summer, when the days are long,
Perhaps you'll understand the song:
In autumn, when the leaves are brown,
Take pen and ink, and write it down.
From "Through the Looking-Glass" Lewis Carroll, 1832-1898
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1 comment:
one of my all time favourite books.
"I sent a message to the fish:
I told them "This is what I wish."
The little fishes of the sea,
They sent an answer back to me.
the little fishes' answer was
"We cannot do it, Sir, because--"
and it goes on....
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