Cynthia Bravo

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Who is Cynthia Bravo?

Mountains cannot be surmounted except by winding paths. ..

  • Phone Number *** - **** 3812
  • E-Mailheavytiger199***@******.***
  • Birthday30 July 1981
  • EducationESDI - Design
  • Address Ferry Road No: 3812
  • CityRotorua
  • CountryNew Zealand

Cynthia Bravo Online Statistics

Cynthia Bravo have a 99 following and 182 followers. Cynthia Bravo's world rankings is 223696. This page is based on Cynthia Bravo's online data & informations. You can find information birth date, place of residence, phone number, address and social media accounts on Cynthia Bravo's page.


About Cynthia Bravo

HAT way does the wind come? What way does he go?
He rides over the water, and over the snow,
Through wood, and through vale; and o'er rocky height,
Which the goat cannot climb, takes his sounding flight;
He tosses about in every bare tree,
As if you look up, you plainly may see;
But how he will come, and whither he goes,
There never a scholar in England knows.

He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook,
And ring a sharp 'larum; but, if you should look,
There's nothing to see but a cushion of snow,
Round as a pillow, and whiter than milk
And softer than if it were covered with silk.
Sometimes he'll hide in the cave of a rock,
Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock;
- Yet seek him, and what shall you find in that place?
Nothing but silence and empty space;
Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves,
That's he's left, for a bed, to beggars or thieves!

As soon as 'tis daylight tomorrow, with me
You shall go to the orchard, and then you will see
That he has been there, and made a great rout,
And cracked the branches, and strewn them about;
Heaven grant that he spare but that one upright twig
That looked up at the sky so proud and big
All last summer, as well you know,
Studded with apples, a beautiful show!

Hark! over the roof he makes a pause,
And growls as if he would fix his claws
Right in the slates, and with a huge rattle
Drive them down, like men in a battle:
- But let him range round; he does us no harm,
We build up the fire, we're snug and warm;
Untouched by his breath see the candle shines bright,
And burns with a clear and steady light.

Books have we to read, but that half-stifled knell,
Alas! 'tis the sound of the eight o'clock bell.
- Come, now we'll to bed! and when we are there
He may work his own will, and what shall be care?
He may knock at the door - we'll not let him in;
May drive at the windows - we'll laugh at his din;
Let him seek his own home wherever it be;
Here's a cozie warm house for Edward and me.

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