Granta Days - Poem by Ben Littlechild
Still the river flows
From the days of Byron and Chaucer
She moves, like silk upon silk,
she slips gently by
Whispering her sweet song
I wish we could sit and listen to her all day long.
She will remember us, long after we have gone.
In setting suns and rising dawns, she carries on.
In quiet pools, damsels dance,
And mayfly's life is but a blink of the eye.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You