Just another door

Pretty maids all in a row

Ugly fella

Tucked in

Requiem

Life through orange glasses

Purple Rain

Celebrations...

Shaken

Jours d'autrefois

For sale, for sale

T'wards the light

When I cross the bar

Crossing the Bar

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crost the bar.

After the storm

'And the door stood open at our feast'

UNWELCOME

Mary Coleridge

We were young, we were merry, we were very very wise,

And the door stood open at our feast,

When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes,

And a man with his back to the East.

O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast,

The loudest voice was still.

The jest died away on our lips as they passed,

And the rays of July struck chill.

The cups of red wine turned pale on the board,

The white bread black as soot.

The hound forgot the hand of her lord,

She fell down at his foot.

Low let me lie, where the dead dog lies,

Ere I sit me down again at a feast,

When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes,

And a man with his back to the East.

Final Performance

Who Has Seen the Wind?

by Christina Rossetti

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you;
But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I;
But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by.

Hark! Who goes there?

UPHILL

by: Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

DOES the road wind up-hill all the way?

Yes, to the very end.

Will the day's journey take the whole long day?

From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?

A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.

May not the darkness hide it from my face?

You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?

Those who have gone before.

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?

They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?

Of labour you shall find the sum.

Will there be beds for me and all who seek?

Yea, beds for all who come.

May the friends never fall out...

Take me home

May the roof never cave in...

Flame

Secret Garden

One way out

Elephant Gossip