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On December 28, 1734, the famous 18th century Scottish outlaw, Rob Roy MacGregor, died at his home in Inverlochlarig Beg, on the Braes of Balquhidder, Scotland. Raibeart Ruadh MacGriogair, as Roy is known in Scots Gaelic, Ruadh being the Scots word for "red-haired", was truly a legend in his own time, and is often called the Scottish Robin Hood.
On this day in #Scottish history ...
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Good Night MoonBeams🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳 Tomorrow i head for a place where the nature stirs my soul to its fullest. Where i have created many an elixir and walked the highest ground in the torrential rains, morning sunrise and evening sunsets. Ate the yummiest foods ever and drank copious delicious wines, walking home merry and filled to my core with love❤️ 🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳 A great way to start my week. Enjoy yours. 🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲 #enjoylife #yourweek #lakedistrict #natureslovingway #amazingfood #walkinginnature #mossgrove #grasmere #magicmakers #wordworth #letsconnect #goodnight #timeout #fells #hills #scenery #bestever #l'enclume #quiettime
Poets do not write for Poets alone.
William Wordsworth
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud By William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
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Perfeck Strangers - "Dreams" ft. Wordsworth & Yonatan Watts
Kyo Itachi - The Shell (feat. Wordsworth, Hus)
I guard the words. I keep them tenderly, express them with my tangled flesh and tattered tongue. Words that form stories, or tales, or patterns. Words that can but hint at the delights of damnation, of the ultimate pleasures that wait for them all on the beyond-side of pain.
Neil Gaiman; "Wordsworth"
