Barrow Bard

By BarrowBard

Where there's a Will

Shall I compare thee to a cooing dove
A clucking pheasant or a lark above?
Rough winds do shake the feather tails
Of choughs and teals, of rooks and rails
And summer's fleas have all too tight a grip
To please my faltering penmanship


(Poor Will. Never been the same since he got the bird.)

PS Someone tell me why I upload a photo the right way up and it appears sideways!

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