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posted : Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

"My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,

Its gossamer fineness I’ll sing to you;

For a delicate fabric in sooth it was,

All trimmed and finified off with gauze.

My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,

How well I remember thy azure hue!

To church I wore it, one pleasant day,

Bedecked in ribbons of fanciful ray;

And all the while I sat on my seat

I thought of naught save my bonnet so neat.

My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,

Broke not my heart when I bade thee adieu?

When service was over, my steps I bent

Towards home, a-nodding my head as I went

But, alas for my bonnet! there came a wind

And blew it away, for the strings were not pinned.

My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,

What shifting scenes have been thine to pass through!

I raised my eyes to the calm, blue sky,

There sailed my bonnet serene and high!

O, what a feeling of hopeless woe

Stole over me then, no heart may know!

My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,

As clear as the sky was thy azure hue!”

—-

Welcome to trippy backgrounds! Along with some ancient poems, here you’ll find original, unique, mindblowing, psychedelic trippy backgrounds for all your personal, non-commercial purposes. Feel free to use and share, but please link back. Thank you for your preference!

posted : Saturday, June 12th, 2010

"Ay, little do those features wear
The shade of sin,—the soil of care;
The hair is parted o’er a brow
Open and white as mountain-snow,
And clusters there in many a ring,
With sun and summer glistening.
Yet something on that brow has wrought
A moment’s cast of angry thought.”

"Ay, little do those features wear

The shade of sin,—the soil of care;

The hair is parted o’er a brow

Open and white as mountain-snow,

And clusters there in many a ring,

With sun and summer glistening.

Yet something on that brow has wrought

A moment’s cast of angry thought.”



posted : Thursday, June 10th, 2010

posted : Thursday, June 10th, 2010

posted : Thursday, June 10th, 2010

posted : Thursday, June 10th, 2010

"And the clear depths of her dark eye
Were bright with troubled brilliancy,
Yet the lips drooped as with the tear,
Which might oppress, but not appear.
Her curls, with all their sunny glow,
Were braided o’er an aching brow;
But well she knew how many sought
To gaze upon her secret thought;—
And love is proud—she might not brook
That others on her heart should look.”

"And the clear depths of her dark eye

Were bright with troubled brilliancy,

Yet the lips drooped as with the tear,

Which might oppress, but not appear.

Her curls, with all their sunny glow,

Were braided o’er an aching brow;

But well she knew how many sought

To gaze upon her secret thought;—

And love is proud—she might not brook

That others on her heart should look.”

posted : Thursday, June 10th, 2010

posted : Thursday, June 10th, 2010

posted : Thursday, June 10th, 2010

posted : Thursday, June 10th, 2010