Saturday, 28 April 2012

piece of memory

Life's Brief Candle

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 

To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief candle! 

Life's but a walking shadow,
a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stageAnd then is heard no more:
it is a tale
Told by an idiot,
full of sound and fury, 

Signifying nothing.


I still remember this poem was taught when I was form 1, 9 years ago, for subject of English Literature. 

I also remember the teachers who teach English in my class at that time. Mrs. Haslina. She short and thin, but fierce. I was very scared because she is a strict teacher.  ^.^

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