Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
An Alliterative Lament
One March Monday morning
A dark dismal day,
The snow slowly sleeting,
We wending our way.
Just two tired tradesmen
In life's lonely lanes,
Both thoughtlessly thinking
Of bed in our brains.
Temptation entreating us,
'Wait a wee while...
Why have you to hurry? '
It says with a smile.
But we will not wait
Or sit silently still
'Til the day's deeds are done,
We must make to the mill;
There to firstly fulfil
Our unchanging chores,
And to feel like two felons
Behind dungeon-like doors.
We will work at our weaving
For pennies, not pounds;
A lugubrious life,
Then a grave in the ground.
Written March 1995
poem
by
John Carter Brown
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black