Classic poem of the day
When far from home some noble martyr dies,
We read his sacred story o'er and o'er;
Like incense, drifting from a sacrifice,
His name blows sweet from that disastrous shore,
O'er the broad waters, to his native land;
But, though our martyr'd saint has fallen asleep,
And closed his ardent eyes, we need not weep;
Unfoil'd the purpose of the Lord shall stand!
His world-wide Church out-grows the powers of Hell,
His holy Ark expands! O'er lands and......
Member poem of the day
L'hiver est une saison froide.
Il faut donc se rechauffer.
C'est une saison rude.
Il faut bien s'habiller.
L'hiver est longue.
Il faut un peu d'eau.
Les Lacs se remplissent a la longue.
Ca sera bientot le printemps.
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