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Oct 11th, 2018, 11:58 pm
7. Hilly
Oct 11th, 2018, 11:58 pm

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Oct 12th, 2018, 1:14 am
13. Now
Oct 12th, 2018, 1:14 am
Oct 12th, 2018, 1:21 am
14. with
Oct 12th, 2018, 1:21 am

Image @irathomas1969
Oct 12th, 2018, 2:26 am
8 bourn
Oct 12th, 2018, 2:26 am
Oct 12th, 2018, 2:34 am
11. sing
Oct 12th, 2018, 2:34 am
Oct 12th, 2018, 5:46 am
12. And
Oct 12th, 2018, 5:46 am

“Life is life--whether in a cat, or dog or man. There is no difference there between a cat or a man. The idea of difference is a human conception for man's own advantage.”
― Śrī Aurobindo
Oct 12th, 2018, 5:52 am
15. Treble
Oct 12th, 2018, 5:52 am

“I can’t even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.”

Dazai Osamu, Ningen Shikkaku
Oct 12th, 2018, 6:28 am
20. whistles
Oct 12th, 2018, 6:28 am
Oct 12th, 2018, 7:51 am
24.Croft
Oct 12th, 2018, 7:51 am
Oct 12th, 2018, 8:01 am
22. A
Oct 12th, 2018, 8:01 am
Oct 12th, 2018, 1:11 pm
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To Autumn by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.


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I need a volunteer to pay the rewards.
Volunteer will get 50 WRZ$ + the number of donations x2

Anyone who wishes to volunteer, please post in the next 5 minutes and volunteer will be randomly selected.
Oct 12th, 2018, 1:11 pm

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Oct 12th, 2018, 1:11 pm
May I
Oct 12th, 2018, 1:11 pm

PM me for Dead Links & Enjoy Reading :wave:

Cheers,
Diva ♥ x
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