misswhistle
when i sing she doesn't care; when i whistle she looks at me expectantly
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Tuesday, September 02, 2014
Good-Luck
So Good-Luck came, and on my roof did light,
Like noiseless snow, or as the dew of night;
Not all at once, but gently,--as the trees
Are by the sun-beams, tickled by degrees.
-- Robert Herrick
(with grateful thanks to @matsholberg)
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