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Let's start with some poetry, and, as it ia a nice winter day now, the poem is about...
Here is A Riddle by Jonathan Swift (an Anglo-Irish writer, 1667—1745).
Can you guess what it is about?
From Heaven I fall,
though from earth I begin.
No lady alive
can show such a skin.
I'm bright as an angel,
and light as a feather,
But heavy and dark,
when you squeeze me together.
Though candor and truth
in my aspect I bear,
Yet many poor creatures
I help to insnare.
Though so much of Heaven
appears in my make,
The foulest impressions
I easily take.
My parent and I
produce one another,
The mother the daughter,
the daughter the mother.
#riddles #poetry
English with ❤️
Let's start with some poetry, and, as it ia a nice winter day now, the poem is about...
Here is A Riddle by Jonathan Swift (an Anglo-Irish writer, 1667—1745).
Can you guess what it is about?
From Heaven I fall,
though from earth I begin.
No lady alive
can show such a skin.
I'm bright as an angel,
and light as a feather,
But heavy and dark,
when you squeeze me together.
Though candor and truth
in my aspect I bear,
Yet many poor creatures
I help to insnare.
Though so much of Heaven
appears in my make,
The foulest impressions
I easily take.
My parent and I
produce one another,
The mother the daughter,
the daughter the mother.
#riddles #poetry
English with ❤️