By Christina Rossetti
I cannot tell you how it was,
But this I know: it came to pass
Upon a bright and sunny day
When May was young; ah, pleasant May!
As yet the poppies were not born
Between the blades of tender corn;
The last egg had not hatched as yet,
Nor any bird foregone its mate.
I cannot tell you what it was,
But this I know: it did but pass.
It passed away with sunny May,
Like all sweet things it passed away,
And left me old, and cold, and gray.
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Thursday was another spectacular day, mid-60s and sunny. The Orioles played early west coast time -- and beat the Yankees again! -- so I did some crafty stuff while watching them, then did some computer-y stuff after lunch. Then we walked to the park, saw two turtles and one of the families of ducklings, and came home for my Thursday evening chat group followed by our leftover pho from the other night.
We watched the season finale of Ghosts, which was not nice to the basement dwellers, followed by this week's Sugar, which finally showed its hand and weirdly enough it neither made me cheer nor made me mad; I need to know where it's going. Now we're watching the season premiere of Hacks, which almost made me cry with the Brandi Carlile and oh I have missed this show! Lake Whetstone goslings:
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