Hangman

hangman, its been a long long time since i played this game. the simple pleasure, innocent fun. just thought i could dig out one more of those treasures from my childhood closet...do try a game.

i like this poem

We Are Seven
William Wordsworth

--A simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said,
And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the churchyard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be."

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,
"The little maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.

"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.

"And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

"So in the churchyard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
brother John and I.

"And when the ground was white with snow
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."

"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?
"Quick was the little maid's reply,
"O master! we are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

i wrote a mail to Mr cunningham the tinner. ....from whose site i cut pasted the picture of the dustpan. And asked him what he wanted me to do....... take off the picture or keep it.
And he responds to tell me its ok for me to keep the picture.
so here we go....the dustpan remains on my blog.
thanks Mr. Cunningham!

any ideas?

It suddenly occured to me that i have a picture of myself pasted on this blog, which i innocently or ignorantly picked up from web images of dustpans.
This one appealed to me. I wish to give credit to whoever it belongs to...but how?
I dont know if its the right thing to do......even cut-pasting somebody elses product....copyright etc. ?
If it were lines from a poem i could say i really like these lines and they are written by so and so but what more can i do than pasting a link to the man who makes these items. so here it is
for now the simplest thing i can do is to post the link to his site. I wish somebody does go over and buy his dustpan.. :)
www.cunninghamtinner.com