Something I found and thought it was beautiful.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THERE IS ALWAYS A PRICE

This is not part of the Dragon Lords Series, this is a poem that I found in a book I purchased.
It is one of the original leaflets that could be obtained from Messers W. Speaight & Sons,Ltd., of E. C. 4
You could purchase them in two catagories,

Post free at the price of One shilling (5p) per hundred, or 6d. sixpence (2½p) for fifty.

The poem was reprinted from The Spectator of September 11th, 1915.

It is so sad, yet very beautiful.. Do copy it if you wish.

CHRIST IN FLANDERS

WE had forgotten You, or very nearly--
You did not seem to touch us very nearly--
Of course we thought about You now and then;
Especially in any time of trouble--
We knew that You were good in time of trouble--
But we are very ordinary men.

And there were always other things to think of--
There's lots of things a man has got to think of--
His work, his home, his pleasure, and his wife;
And so we only thought of You on Sunday--
Sometimes, perhaps, not even on a Sunday--
Because there's always lots to fill one's life.

And, all the while, in the street or lane or byway--
In country lane, in city street, or byway--
You walked among us, and we did not see.
Your feet were bleeding as You walked our pavements--
How did we miss Your Footprints on our pavements--
Can there be other folk as blind as we?

Now we remember; over here in Flanders
(It isn't strange to think of You in Flanders)--
This hideous warfare seems to make things clear.
We never thought about You much in England--
But now that we are far away from England--
We have no doubts, we know that You are here.

You helped us pass the jest along the trenches--
Where, in cold blood, we waited in the trenches--
You touched its ribaldry and made it fine.
You stood beside us in our pain and weakness--
We're glad to think You understand our weakness--
Somehow it seems to help us not to whine.

We think about You kneeling in the Garden--
Ah! God! the agony of that dread Garden--
We know You prayed for us upon the Cross.
If anything could make us glad to bear it--
'Twould he the knowledge that You willed to bear it--
Pain--death--the uttermost of human loss.

Though we forgot You--You will not forget us--
We feel so sure that You will not forget us--
But stay with us until this dream is past.
And so we ask for courage, strength, and pardon--
Especially, I think, we ask for pardon--
And that You'll stand beside us to the last.

. I could not find out who L. W. was, but I shall keep looking.
If someone has the answer could you let me know please. Seligor x.

The Lonely Stallion. A lovely little story from an idea of Uncle Will's

The Lovesick Stallion

Once upon a time there was a beautiful horse called Henry, nowadays he spent a lot of his time galloping around the meadows. This he had always done, so it was very strange what happened to him, this beautiful day, in August. He stood quite still and wondered why it was he had never, ever wanted to run free~ it just never came into his mind before ~ yet, here he was in the middle of the paddock, thinking just that.
Henry , which was the name given to him when he was born, had lived in the same place all his life. The Barn, his home since he was a small colt, stood as lovely as ever in the corner of his paddock, he wanted for nothing; fresh hay, grooming by a beautiful young filly named Janice, whose pony tail was almost as long as his, brought him fresh water and food everyday, in fact, every day he was well looked after.
As a youngster, he had remained rather a gangly, little chap for quite a while, he often thought this was why he had been able to stay at Brookefield and not been sold on. Now however, he had made up for the lost growing times with his rich, grey dappled coat and a mane and tail that could have been made with spun silver and spiders webs covered in morning dew, he had also grown in stature and by the time he was three, he could have been mistaken as Tolkein's great Shadowfax. Yes, life for Henry was very comfortable to say the least.
Maybe that is why he suddenly began to have this desperate urge to be free; roam the wild meadows beyond the hills. These thoughts were very alien to Henry, but they remained with him all that day. Night began to fall and Henry made his way down to the barn, his stable I suppose we should call it. After eating his supper he stood by the stable door, resting his long neck against the wooden rail, he smiled as his eyes rested on the worn out groove to one side of the feeding basket. He smiled again as he realised that he was dreaming of the one he loved far, far away.
.............
and they lived happily ever after.

The Chippeway Indian boy who served his people,

THE BOY WHO SERVED HIS TRIBE.

In a wigwam in the woods of North America there once lived a very contented family of the Chippeway tribe. Father and mother, sisters and brothers all loved each other, and the good things of the Earth ~ the sunshine, the cool springs, the forests. As for cold and hunger, they were cheerfully borne. Yet in those days the Chippeways suffered great hardships, for they had no idea of growing grain, and lived only by hunting.
When Indian boys reach the age of fourteen they go into some lonely place to fast and meditate on the life before them. The eldest son of the family was now old enough to fill this custom. One day his father walked far into the woods with him, built a little wigwam, and told te boy he would bring him food in a week's time.

GOBLIN MARKET By Christina Rossetti

Hello welcome to A Children's Treasury.

Goblin Market

by Christina Rosetti

Please read this poem as a complete line from
Left to Right,

MORNING and evening - Maids heard the goblins cry:

"Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy:

Apples and quinces, Lemons and oranges,

Plump unpeck'd cherries- Melons and raspberries,

Bloom-down-cheek'd peaches, Swart-headed mulberries,

This is a very long but wonderful poem from the very beautiful hands of Christina Rossetti. This Book of Poems has just been released in a new book called Goblin Market and other Poems. It is wonderful and I couldn't make this book without putting it on. Diddilydeedot Dreamland in Seligor's Castlemxxx

The Gathering of the Dragon Lords of Chirron : blog

The Gathering of the Dragon Lords of Chirron : blog

CHAPTER TWELVE TAYA'S STORY Father to Son Petrak let go of her talons and picking up the mugs he moved from the fireside, his back towards them, shoulders hunched. “Alright then here goes, from the beginning,” Taya said once more. “It began seven hecs ago, not long after it got out that you, Cymric had been killed by the Kraal’s at the Magnam. Salenas moped about for days, finding any excuse to have any young male shard put to death, it was obvious if he didn’t have his son then nobody else was entitled to have their’s either. All in all nearly a hundred young Shard males were put to death but that was before he got it into his head that he wanted another son. This is when the trouble started, Salenas had never taken a wife, his sister Delth has him convinced that there is no need for him to have just one woman, after all, he is the Prince of Thordoy therefore he can have whom ever he wants, when ever he wants.” Taya sighed. “So long of course that they came from the royal blood line, so he then decided to go on a rampage of the royal females. He didn’t search for long. One female, Yamina, a beautiful dragon from an exceptional background caught his eye. He decided that she should be the one to bare his child and the fact that she had already given birth to three sons, made his lust for her even greater.” Taya looked to where Petrak still had his back to the trio. “Are you sure you want me to go on, Petrak?” Petrak nodded his head in silence. Taya shrugged her shoulders and carried on.

The Gathering of the Dragon Lords of Chirron : blog

The Gathering of the Dragon Lords of Chirron : blog

It's amazing what you can find when you're looking through old papers.

Very Disposable!

It is thirteen years plus since I scribbled down these words in my poetry book, sometimes over the past thirteen years I have come across it, read it, had a little weep for it happened to two dogs I used to know and I still haven't got over it obviously. Well now that I have the web sites and I reach thousands of people all over the world ever day, I have decided to put it here as my web page for the evening. This beautiful little dog below isn't mine, I don't know who it belongs to , he or she has just been picked at random from thousands on the net. Look at her, she is so happy and so well cared for, so still I ask why oh why do people have animals when they have no love for them? It's a hard life with four legs and a tail. Isn't it?

Very Disposable!

She doesn’t know we know,
she doesn't know we understand,
And here she’s come to take us out,
our leads are in her hand.

The car will be our prison cell for
fifteen minutes or more.
And then it will be over, no more
loving walks along the shore.

Hmmm!
is this the door to heaven,
I do hope its like they say!
At least were going together so
I’ll be with someone on the way.

Wow that needle looks quite painful
I do hope he does me first.
Idon’t really want to watch him die,
Hell! I’ve got an awful thirst.

So tell me Why do people have us,
don't they know the price we pay
We have no say. No reason given,
do we just get in the way?

God I hope this doggie heaven
is the bestest place to be,
Yet I go with pain - not laughter,
cos there are so many more like me.

Dorothy Milnes March 1995