Dumb, till the quivering dimness should flicker and shift and pass.
Fled with a scream of terror: oh, would she had dared to rest!
And over the heather drifted the down from a bleeding breast.
And quench its speed in the slushy sand.
Of the forest's ferny floor.
Ah, you should see Cynddylan on a tractor.
His nerves of metal and his blood oil.
Out of the farmyard, scattering hens.
Of foxes and squirrels and bright jays.
Who runs his engine on a different fuel.
As Cynddylan passes proudly up the lane.
How can ye bloom sae fair?
And I sae fu' o' care?
And sae did I o' mine.
But left the thorn wi' me.
At ten o'clock our neighbours drove me home.
Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple.
He lay in a four foot box, as in his cot.
Puis cachées par un nuage.
Dans une ville inconnue He takes her into his arms.
then hidden by a cloud.
She lifts her hand to her heart.
And the melancholy song of swinging gates.
Into the wood, to die at least in peace.
That sprawled, stiff as stone, before the shattered door.
There was not one who did not think of home.
on the immortality of flies.
of the Duke of Clervaux.
from the fires of Estres.
But that don't make it junk.
But I don't know how I know.
Inner feelings come and go.
How come you called me here tonight?
With my heart at all?
I know what that's about.
But I couldn't make it hold.
And I do what I am told.
How come you bother with my heart at all?
Then I came back from where I'd been.
The keepers of the deep-sea light.
As gallant as a gull in flight.
With wonder all too dread for words.
Without a sound, or spurt of white.
And so must climb for evermore.
That gaped for us ajar.
Lay tumbled on the floor.
We set about our hopeless search.
And of what might yet befall.
Scotland,  did a class project on the Flannan Isle mystery.