Classic poem of the day
I love to see the summer beaming forth
And white wool rock clouds sailing to the north
I love to see the wild flowers come again
And Mare blobs stain with gold the meadow drain
And water lilies whiten on the flood
Where reed clumps rustle like a wind shook wood
Where from her hiding place the Moor Hen pushes
And seeks her flag nest floating in bull rushes
I like the willow leaning half way o'er
The clear deep lake to stand upon its shore
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Member poem of the day
Little spiders on the floor,
Who knows what they're waiting for?
They'll creep around without a sound,
Looking for a place to stay.
First they rested in the sink.
But soon they cried, "That's far too wet!"
The spiders didn't like the sink.
So now they had to try and think.
And then one said "Why not the shed?"
The spiders rested in the shed.
But soon they cried "It's far too old!"
The spid...