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Everyone loves random poetry!
Whose woods these are I think I know.
SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL.
In a kingdom by the sea,
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
As Lightning to the Children eased
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
Was there a man dismay'd?
Don't anther.
(with up so floating many bells down)
glazed with rain
I think that I shall never see
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
A stately pleasure dome decree:
A poem should be wordless
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
Sandra's seen a leprechaun
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Who said -- "two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Mark the mastodon."