Let's fly to the weekend. Blessed Be...with love from my page to yours...

  Hello Wanda

  Have a nice day ~ Hugs

MES 42 MEILLEURS AMIS : est en ordre 😏
MY 42 BEST FRIENDS : is all set 😏

Greetings and Hugs

      I pray you are doing well, my friend...

GOOD MORNING, LOVE, HUGS & BLESSINGS, Ms. Wanda, I pray YOU have a WONDERFILLED WHISICAL WEDNESDAY/HUMPDAY, and are having a WONDIFEROUS WEEK, my friend...

Ahimsa Namaste

We have rain starting at 7a.m. and ending around 5p.m. At least our heat wave is over. Have a nice Wednesday.                                                                            

To an Athlete Dying Young.... A.E. Housman

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we brought you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay,
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.

Just watched "Out of Africa"....  Moving ending.... Meryl Streep reciting this poem over the grave of her love.   Good night!   :)  xox

To an Athlete Dying Young.... A.E. Housman

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we brought you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay,
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.

Just watched "Out of Africa"....  Moving ending.... Meryl Streep reciting this poem over the grave of her love.   Good night!   :)  xox