One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing,
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky.
Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Happy 120th birthday, T.S. Eliot, and 110th, George Gershwin.
Posted by beche-la-mer at 10:25 am