User:Brokenfrog

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{{User wikipedia/RC Patrol}}

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What can I say: I enjoy reading and contributing to this project, I hate vandals and spammers, and enjoy indiscriminate pillaging.

A toad the power mower caught,

Chewed and clipped of a leg, with a hobbling hop has got

To the garden verge, and sanctuaried him

Under the cineraria leaves, in the shade

Of the ashen and heartshaped leaves, in a dim,

Low, and a final glade.

The rare original heartsbleed goes,

Spends in the earthen hide, in the folds and wizenings, flows

In the gutters of the banked and staring eyes. He lies

As still as if he would return to stone,

And soundlessly attending, dies

Toward some deep monotone,

Toward misted and ebullient seas

And cooling shores, toward lost Amphibia^Rs emperies.

Day dwindles, drowning and at length is gone

In the wide and antique eyes, which still appear

To watch, across the castrate lawn,

The haggard daylight steer.