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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
Do you like to go for walks where you live?
Today, I went for a lovely walk during my lunch break. I don't know if this will work, but I have tried to show you a photograph:
I love walking around my local area, as I think it is a really pretty place to be.
Nothing is better, in my opinion, than being able to walk around in the sunshine.
What about you? Do you like walking? Where do you like to go?