<img src="http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c376/Nephilimvernon/nepgoth.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting"> The misunderstood are often the greatest

O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. -Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), The Splendor Falls

Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon; This way, and that, she peers, and sees Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog; From their shadowy cote the white breast peep Of doves in silver-feathered sleep; A harvest mouse goes scampering by, With silver claws and a silver eye; And moveless fish in the water gleam, By silver reeds in a silver stream. -- Walter de la Mare

<img src="http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c376/Nephilimvernon/nepgoth.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting"> The misunderstood are often the greatest