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08/21/20New boards added: /vrpg/, /vmg/, /vst/ and /vm/
05/04/17New trial board added: /bant/ - International/Random
10/04/16New board for 4chan Pass users: /vip/ - Very Important Posts
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Brief downtime for maintenance shortly. Maybe 10 minutes. Idk.

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>too lonely to sleep
>too lonely to get out of bed
It's cold today x_x
>>
>>24914325
you were supposed to leave because were mean you retarded fucking worthless faggot
>>
I want to make a 4th thread but I ran out of credit so I can't get around the limit ;-;
Anyway here's a poem I hope you guys like it's by Thomas Hardy and called The Darkling Thrush. The language is a bit flowery and hard to understand, but it's a very nice poem when you do^^

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.



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