The Night Has A Thousand Eyes

The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying of the sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.
by Francis William Bourdillon

At The Zoo

Brightest Stars Are Never Dim.

The night has a thousand eyes.
Those eyes are bright and shining.
Those eyes are shinny in Burma.
Suddenly the night become darker and darker.
Brightest stars blow up in Burma.
Peace and love disappear.
Bravery and death tell the truth.
Time and history show a prove.
Time is always ripe to do right.
Brightest stars still a live.
They will never disappear.
They will be alive forever.
So, the night has a thousand eyes.
They are always bright and shining.
Oh! they are always bright and starry.

The Brook

I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorpes, a little town, And half a hundred bridges. Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever. I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever. I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling, And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel, And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever. I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my shingly bars; I loiter round my cresses; And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever. By Alfred Lord Tennyson

Night After Night.

                    
 Night after night I look at the sky
And ask why you are not here.
Night after night I listen to the Overwhelming sound of my heart
Night after night I look around and see That you are not here
Night after night I sit here and feel The emptiness
That you have left behind
Night after night I pray to the sky
That where ever you might be You have found happiness.            

  Gabby Becerra

Impossible

Impossible, why do some people use this word? Why? Don't they believe themselves or other people? This word is used to people themselves haven't confidence. If you have confidence by yourself don't use impossible. In real life if you want to do something it is very possible in real life. For example 2007, September revolution in Burma might be considered it is impossible the monks will stir for people. But it was very possible. So, I want to tell everybody must try to make sure your goal and have confidence. There are lots of possible opportunities in front of you. Don't you think that it is impossible. It is possible in reality.

HOME

There is a nice place.
We call  her a palace.
However, you think she is  old.
She is always for our soul.
She gives us bright and brave.
To be honest like a grace.
The day we will go away.
She can't be follow away.
She will wait for us all the day.
She is faithful to all of us.
So, we love her from our heart.
Now ,I left from my palace.
Half and 4 years in this place.
Now, I am getting old.
But my palace is still in my soul.
She will also ask for a dream.
I will be in her dream. 
I will be in her dream.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
                                               By Robert Frost