Thanks, Marc. Here's one from Byron, which I didn't know till today (not being a big fan of poetry):
No more roving so late into night, Though our hearts still love and the moon's bright. For the soul wears the breast, Love itself must have rest. We shall not love or rove by moonlight.
No forests or mountains for me I look on such things with great glee Every wave on a shore sends me longing for more I was born by the side of the sea…
Just stopped by to give Ol' Blunder a shout. Just made up this one on the spot. ciao There once was a lady named Dot Who’d nothing to do with the DOT But there’s some do claim The two were the same; For she’d this space men parked in a lot.