Страница Кристины Родригез ВКонтакте

About Weather If bees stay at home, Rain will soon come; If they fly away, Fine will be the day. * * * Evening red and morning grey, Send the traveller on his way; Evening grey and morning red, Bring the rain upon his head. * * * When the dew is on the grass, Rain will never come to pass. A sunshiny shower Won't last half an hour.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth. Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same. And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

Then, hostess, count the reckoning, The reckoning, the reckoning! Then, hostess, count the reckoning, And bring a drink of ale more! Gone is the day, and dark is the night, But we will never stray for want of light, For ale and brandy is stars and moon, And blood red wine is the rising sun. There is wealth and ease for gentlemen, And simple folk must fight and fend (for themselves); But here we are all in one accord For every man that is drunk as a lord. My stoup (of ale) is a holy pool, That heals the wounds of care and sorrow, And Pleasure is a wanton trout: If you drink it all, you will find him out!

Little girl, little girl, Where have you been? I've been to see grandmother Over the green. What did she give you? Milk in a can. What did you say for it? Thank you, Grandam.

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win. the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!

Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
Where have you been?
I've been to London
To look at the Queen.
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
What did you there?
I frightened a little mouse
Under her chair.