the old pirate wrote on Mar 7th 2001, 02:36:54 about
song
Rating: 20 point(s) | Read and rate text individuallyI cannot sing the song of the humpback whale or dance the dance of the bees, but no matter. I know who I am.
| Amount of texts to »song« | 34, and there are 33 texts (97.06%) with a rating above the adjusted level (-3) |
| Average lenght of texts | 464 Characters |
| Average Rating | 6.059 points, 5 Not rated texts |
| First text | on Jun 15th 2000, 13:23:09 wrote maike about song |
| Latest text | on Nov 22nd 2015, 09:24:47 wrote Amber about song |
| Some texts that have not been rated at all
(overall: 5) |
on Sep 24th 2001, 05:30:53 wrote
on Aug 1st 2007, 17:53:03 wrote
on Oct 21st 2002, 13:48:15 wrote |
Random associativity, rated above-average positively
Texts to »Song«
^116 wrote on Jun 22nd 2001, 13:18:49 about
song
Rating: 20 point(s) | Read and rate text individually
~~~
Just a song at twilight
When the lights are low
And the flickering shadows
Softly come and go.
Though the heart be weary
Sad the day and long
Still to us at twilight
Comes love's old sweet song.
~~~
the old pirate wrote on Mar 24th 2001, 14:05:00 about
song
Rating: 20 point(s) | Read and rate text individually
To sailors, all nature is brimming with grand
Ideas – with thought and emotion;
I pity the dunces who can't understand
The song of the earth, sky and ocean.
whatevernext96 wrote on Jan 26th 2002, 21:26:55 about
song
Rating: 20 point(s) | Read and rate text individually'Just a song at twilight, when the lights are low'. Pity they didn't remember that Victorian line in 1914. Instead, 'the lights went out all over Europe' (as unmusically remarked by Lord Grey) and a war of hatred and horror began. No songs, no tenderness – »And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds« (Wilfred Owen – dead in the trenches).
A.E. wrote on Apr 30th 2004, 11:08:39 about
song
Rating: 22 point(s) | Read and rate text individually
FAR I hear the bugle blow
To call me where I would not go,
And the guns begin the song,
“Soldier, fly or stay for long.”
A.E.Housman
@@ Emily Aphra @@ wrote on Apr 10th 2001, 11:24:24 about
song
Rating: 20 point(s) | Read and rate text individually
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds,
Baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing;
Wasn't that a dainty dish
To set before a king?
The king was in his countinghouse
Counting out his money;
The queen was in the parlor
Eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden
Hanging out the clothes,
Along came a blackbird,
And snipped off her nose.
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