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East Yorkshire
WE NOW HAVE A GUESTBOOK ! ! 
Feel Free to sign our Guestbook
As a result of a hacker attack on our guestbook host, most of the previous records of entries prior to March/Arpil 2003 have been lost. I've been able to salvage some messages, email addresses, and the nub of what folks were looking for, and I've put a short list together on this separate page. If your original enquiry is missing, or incomplete, feel free to sign in again and leave us your details. Sorry for the confusion. Lost & Missing entries Here are a few lines that seem to me to be about Friendship. The Scent of the Roses Farewell but whenever you welcome the hour That awakens the night song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you. His griefs may return, not a hope may remain Of the few that have brightened his pathway of pain. But he ne'er will forget the short vision which threw Its enchantment around him, while lingering with you. And still on that evening when pleasure fills up To the highest top spark to each heart and each cup. Where e'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright My soul, happy friends shall be with you that night; Shall join in your revels, your sports and your wiles And return to me beaming all o'er with your smiles. Too blest if it tells me that mid the gay wheer Some kind voice had murmured: "I wish he were here." Let fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past which she cannot destroy; That come back in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories filled, As the vase in which roses have once been distilled. You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang around still. |
