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There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
November by Walter de la Mare
A man walked into a bar...
... he saw a cheetah sitting at the bar, and was captivated by its beauty.
He sat next to the cheetah and started talking to it. The barman saw him and said to the cheetah "Watch out, I think this guy is trying to pull a fast one".