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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
In England, and many other countries, today is Shrove Tuesday, which marks the beginning of Lent. We eat pancakes as a way to use up what's left in our store cupboard.
I was wondering, how many of you celebrate Shrove Tuesday? And how do you like your pancakes? I have mine with just a little bit of sugar sprinkled on them.