lllldclove

Country: China

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Rated by 3 members

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That would be honored to know you! My msn : steelrose521@hotmail.com; My Gmail: cnd.lei@gmail.com

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Recent Comments

11:11 PM Dec 31 2008
tiffintime Sri Lanka

11:11 PM Dec 31 2008

tiffintime
Sri Lanka

02:59 AM Jan 11 2008
Marsei11e Russian Federation	Watcha! Good poetry... I like reading and I've read it with pleasure. I'll be waiting for some new entries! Good luck

02:59 AM Jan 11 2008

Marsei11e
Russian Federation

Watcha!

Good poetry... I like reading and I've read it with pleasure. I'll be waiting for some new entries! Good luck

10:39 PM Jan 10 2008
tiffintime Sri Lanka	There is some great poetry on your profile page, which I enjoyed reading (although I must admit that my general reading of English poetry has been somewhat limited). So lllldclove, - If music be the food of love, play on; (Shakespeare - Twelfth Night) http://shakespeare.about.com/cs/generalsites/a/shkmusic.htm

10:39 PM Jan 10 2008

tiffintime
Sri Lanka

There is some great poetry on your profile page, which I enjoyed reading (although I must admit that my general reading of English poetry has been somewhat limited).

So lllldclove, - If music be the food of love, play on; (Shakespeare - Twelfth Night)

http://shakespeare.about.com/cs/generalsites/a/shkmusic.htm

10:04 PM Jan 05 2008
lllldclove China	The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter; Of the January sun; and not to think Of any misery in the sound of the wind, In the sound of a few leaves. Which is the sound of the land Full of the same wind That is blowing in the same bare place. For the listener, who listens in the snow, And, nothing himself, beholds Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

10:04 PM Jan 05 2008

lllldclove
China

The Snow Man

by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter;

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves.
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place.
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

09:54 PM Jan 05 2008
lllldclove China	A Psalm of Life Herry Wadsworth Longfellow Tell me not in mournful numbers Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers. And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art , to dust returnest. Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment , and not sorrow, Is our destined and our way; But to act, That much to-morrow. Find us farther than to-day. Art is long , and time is fleeting. And our hearts , though stout and brave. Still , like muffled drums , are beating Still , like muffled drums , are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world’s broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb,driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no future.howe’er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,act in the living Present! Let us,then,be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving,still pursuing Learn to labour and to wait.

09:54 PM Jan 05 2008

lllldclove
China

A Psalm of Life

Herry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not in mournful numbers

Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers.

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art , to dust returnest.

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment , and not sorrow,

Is our destined and our way;

But to act,

That much to-morrow.

Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long , and time is fleeting.

And our hearts , though stout and brave.

Still , like muffled drums , are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb,driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no future.howe’er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,act in the living Present!

Let us,then,be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving,still pursuing

Learn to labour and to wait.

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lllldclove's Blog

The furthest distance in the world

September 26, 2008
Viewed 594 times.

The furthest distance in the world

Is not between life and death

But when I stand in front of you

Yet you don't know that I love you

The furthest distance in the world

Is not when i stand in font of you

Yet you can't see my love

But when undoubtedly knowing the love from both

Yet cannot

Be togehter

The furthest distance in the world

Is not being apart while being in love

But when plainly can not resist the yearning

Yet pretending

You have never been in my heart

The furthest distance in the world

Is not

But using one's indifferent heart

To dig an uncrossable river

For the one who loves you