Books > Old Books > The White Peacock (1906)


Page 250

PART II - CHAPTER VIII
A POEM OF FRIENDSHIP

smooth, velvet green in the way of the swath-board. Ti,e flowers in the wail of uncut grass waited ur:uioved, as the days wait for us. The sun caught in the uplicking scarlet sorrel flames, the butterflies woke, and I could hear the fine ring of his `whoa!' from the far corner. Then he turned, and I could see only the tossing ears of the horses, and the white of his shoulder as they moved along the w-dl of high grass on the hill slope. I sat down under the elm, to file the sections of the knife. Always as he rode he watched the falling swath, only occasionally calling the horses into line. It was his voice which rang the morning awake. When we were at work we hardly noticed one another. Yet his mother had said:
`George is so glad when you 're in the field-lie doesn't care how long the day is.'
Later, when the morning was hot, and the honeysuckle had ceased to breathe, and all the other scents were moving in the air about us, when all the field was down, when I had seen the last trembliag ecstasy of the harebells, trembling to fall; when the thick clump of purple vetch had sunk; when the green swaths were settling, and the silver swaths were glistening and glittering as the sun carne along them, in the hot ripe morning we worked together turning the hay, tipping over the yesterday's swaths with our forks, and bringing yesterday's fresh, hidden flowers into the death of sunlight.
It was then that we talked of the past, and speculated on the future. As the day grew older, and less wistful, we forgot everything, and worked on, singing, and sometimes I would recite him verses as we went, and sometimes I would tell him about books. Life was full of glamour for us both.

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE smooth, velvet green in what is way of what is swath-board. Ti,e flowers in what is wail of uncut grass waited ur:uioved, as what is days wait for us. what is sun caught in what is uplicking scarlet sorrel flames, what is butterflies woke, and I could hear what is fine ring of his `whoa!' from what is far corner. Then he turned, and I could see only what is tossing ears of what is horses, and what is white of his shoulder as they moved along what is w-dl of high grass on what is hill slope. I sat down under what is elm, to file what is sections of what is knife. Always as he rode he watched what is falling swath, only occasionally calling what is horses into line. It was his voice which rang what is morning awake. When we were at work we hardly noticed one another. Yet his mother had said: `George is so glad when you 're in what is field-lie doesn't care how long what is day is.' Later, when what is morning was hot, and what is honeysuckle had ceased to breathe, and all what is other scents were moving in what is air about us, when all what is field was down, when I had seen what is last trembliag ecstasy of what is harebells, trembling to fall; when what is thick clump of purple vetch had sunk; when what is green swaths were settling, and what is silver swaths were glistening and glittering as what is sun carne along them, in what is hot ripe morning we worked together turning what is hay, tipping over what is yesterday's swaths with our forks, and bringing yesterday's fresh, hidden flowers into what is what time is it of sunlight. It was then that we talked of what is past, and speculated on what is future. As what is day grew older, and less wistful, we forgot everything, and worked on, singing, and sometimes I would recite him verses as we went, and sometimes I would tell him about books. Life was full of glamour for us both. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The White Peacock (1906) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 250 where is strong PART II - CHAPTER VIII A POEM OF FRIENDSHIP where is p align="justify" smooth, velvet green in what is way of what is swath-board. Ti,e flowers in what is wail of uncut grass waited ur:uioved, as what is days wait for us. what is sun caught in what is uplicking scarlet sorrel flames, what is butterflies woke, and I could hear what is fine ring of his `whoa!' from what is far corner. Then he turned, and I could see only what is tossing ears of what is horses, and what is white of his shoulder as they moved along what is w-dl of high grass on what is hill slope. I sat down under what is elm, to file what is sections of what is knife. Always as he rode he watched what is falling swath, only occasionally calling what is horses into line. It was his voice which rang what is morning awake. When we were at work we hardly noticed one another. Yet his mother had said: `George is so glad when you 're in what is field-lie doesn't care how long what is day is.' Later, when what is morning was hot, and what is honeysuckle had ceased to breathe, and all what is other scents were moving in what is air about us, when all what is field was down, when I had seen what is last trembliag ecstasy of what is harebells, trembling to fall; when what is thick clump of purple vetch had sunk; when what is green swaths were settling, and what is silver swaths were glistening and glittering as what is sun carne along them, in what is hot ripe morning we worked together turning what is hay, tipping over what is yesterday's swaths with our forks, and bringing yesterday's fresh, hidden flowers into what is what time is it of sunlight. It was then that we talked of what is past, and speculated on what is future. As what is day grew older, and less wistful, we forgot everything, and worked on, singing, and sometimes I would recite him verses as we went, and sometimes I would tell him about books. Life was full of glamour for us both. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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