Lily Green at the Town Hall Hospital, Oxford, item 32

• April 7, 2017 17:31:44 Cheryl Ellsworth

  How many gardens in this World of ours.

  Hold blossoms that never come to flowers,

  A sudden wind comes coldly by,

  The wild tree bids its fairest bud good bye.

  
  

  How many ships of ours go out to sea

  In search of Havens, that shall tranquil be;

  The storms of fate their fairest hopes o'er set,

  And there is naught to do except forget.

  
  

  
  

  How many wear a smile upon their face,

  Although their hearts may hold an empty place;

  None know the heights or depths of their regrets,

  But God remembers,when the World forgets.

  23.1.17.

  C.J. McDonald.

  Oxford.

• April 7, 2017 03:14:42 Cheryl Ellsworth

  How many gardens in this World of ours.

  Hold blossoms that never come to flowers,

  A sudden wind comes coldly by,

  The wild tree bids its fairest bud good bye.

  
  

  How many ships of ours go out to sea

  In search of Havens, that shall tranquil be;

  The storms of fate their fairest hopes o'er set,

  And there is naught to do except forget.

  
  

  
  

  How many wear a smile upon their face,

  Although their hearts may hold an empty place;

  None know the heights or depths of their regrets,

  But God remembers,when the World forgets.

  23.1.17.

  C.g. McDonald.

  Oxford.

  
  

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• April 7, 2017 03:14:37 Cheryl Ellsworth

  How many gardens in this World of ours.

  Hold blossoms that never come to flowers,

  A sudden wind comes coldly by,

  The wild tree bids its fairest bud good bye.

  
  

  How many ships of ours go out to sea

  In search of Havens, that shall tranquil be;

  The storms of fate their fairest hopes o'er set,

  And there is naught to do except forget.

  
  

  
  

  How many wear a smile upon their face,

  Although their hearts may hold an empty place;

  None know the heights or depths of their regrets,

  But God remembers,when the World forgets.

  23.1.17

  C.g. McDonald.

  Oxford.

  
  

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• March 25, 2017 00:31:59 Ancuta Zubascu

  How many gardens in this World of ours.

  Hold blossoms that never come to flowers,

  A sudden wind comes coldly by,

  The wild tree bids its fairest bud good bye.

  
  

  How many ships of ours go out to sea

  In search of Havens, that shall tranquil be;

  The storms of fate their fainest hopes oen set,

  And there is naught to do except forget.

  
  

  
  

  how many wear a smile upon their face,

  Although their hearts may hold an empty place;

  None know the heights on  depiths of their regrets,

  But God remembers,when the World forgets.

  23.1.17                                    b.g.M Donald

                                                         Oxford

  
  

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