Comments on: tread softly for you tread on my dreams http://michaeljr.wordpress.com/2006/09/29/tread-softly-for-you-tread-on-my-dreams/ Wed, 07 Oct 2009 17:34:04 +0000 http://wordpress.com/ hourly 1 By: megan fox topless http://michaeljr.wordpress.com/2006/09/29/tread-softly-for-you-tread-on-my-dreams/#comment-30 megan fox topless Wed, 07 Oct 2009 17:34:04 +0000 http://michaeljr.wordpress.com/2006/09/29/tread-softly-for-you-tread-on-my-dreams/#comment-30 Sign: gfndc Hello!!! pktun and 2460mautbttvhr and 4271 : Cool! Sign: gfndc Hello!!! pktun and 2460mautbttvhr and 4271 : Cool!

]]> By: sandrar http://michaeljr.wordpress.com/2006/09/29/tread-softly-for-you-tread-on-my-dreams/#comment-29 sandrar Thu, 10 Sep 2009 14:41:17 +0000 http://michaeljr.wordpress.com/2006/09/29/tread-softly-for-you-tread-on-my-dreams/#comment-29 Hi! I was surfing and found your blog post... nice! I love your blog. :) Cheers! Sandra. R. Hi! I was surfing and found your blog post… nice! I love your blog. :) Cheers! Sandra. R.

]]> By: courtney http://michaeljr.wordpress.com/2006/09/29/tread-softly-for-you-tread-on-my-dreams/#comment-13 courtney Sat, 30 Sep 2006 13:22:50 +0000 http://michaeljr.wordpress.com/2006/09/29/tread-softly-for-you-tread-on-my-dreams/#comment-13 The Lover Tells of the Rose in his Heart ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. I hope you're having fun in Ireland... Call me when you get back. The Lover Tells of the Rose in his Heart

ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

I hope you’re having fun in Ireland… Call me when you get back.

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