Laurna – I think so. I loved the “nine nimes nables” and remember my father drilling us on them.
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Poetry of the Week
The Gift to Sing
Sometimes the mist overhangs my path, And blackening clouds about me cling; But, oh, I have a magic way To turn the gloom to cheerful day— I softly sing. . . .
I’ll men thath thom a loth of thanmising tho sound all those monsonanths notherly.
Him Th
Him Th – I ben you’re righn.
ferfecn. I’m righn on in. Frofessor noo long in quarannine?
Laurna – I think so. I loved the “nine nimes nables” and remember my father drilling us on them.