O,
Inspired by the Bronte sisters
Ah. let the sweet angels Dream. Keep his eye lids on thy Pillow, Fever make us all thin and
Still waters of the stream Row in my boat in the river Tay. Upon the swans of the lake Come up to side of the boat
For the priest and the holy well And the bell .thy story tell., And for the spinning wheels, Spindle spun, And to walk over the sand dunes
the storm winds of autumn Make me shake by the lake The window pain rattle shake To ruffle a few wet feathers With birds singing by the lake
what from this barran land can we reap? our fields are dry my body Frail Go on the trail before thy fail
Some books are short And sweet Some books are lies From end to end Some books are true
O.,er the banks Of the boni doon Touch and sit by The slippery moon O,.er the fields of
The sails were full and a fair win… Blows, and the English Dutch flee… Mast show. As to fast away Plymouth to the w… Cliffs of Dover, the HMS ship th…
Yet you know upon you To let me suffer the pain The hurtfull strain in the Rain. Humilinate does you know sad
I see a game this a shame To see you at my front door a dame of fame sits by the Shore. Delights to see the blue floor
Thou does death start Frame of thy flowers Stars glow in the dark time love spare so rare for thus love fell apart
I stand upon the Venice bridge Of sighs, A palace and a prison on each Side. I saw from the tidal waves so
Boil up to the heavens Of fire. To the external craters Below. Far from my body of soul
This open glen was thick with Thorns Tis then the white of the flower hide the horns of the shy fallow Deer
The sweet smell of flowers Lies in the wet dewy grass Upon they wake of the dawn Of the day From dawn to dust they