David Latane wrote:
>What about the suckability of British poetry?
>
>
You forgot one:
Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip’s bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. -- The Tempest, by What'sHisName
Ken
--
Kenneth Wolman
Proposal Development Department
Room SW334
Sarnoff Corporation
609-734-2538
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