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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
What do you do for a living?
Hey guys, I would like to know what do you do and how do you like your Job? Is that your majoy or does it have anything to do with what you learnt before? Of course it would be more interesting if they are totally different. (My computer teacher in primary school had the major of chemistry)
I'm a boring office lady and write email everyday... but I studied German which leads that I'm working in a German spoken Country now :)