Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live...
Phone Number *** - **** 6910
Birthday01 September 1971
Address Hämeentie No: 6910
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About Héctor Fiorentino
O, the red rose may be fair, And the lily statelier; But my shamrock, one in three, Takes the very heart of me!
Many a lover hath the rose When june's musk-wind breathes and blows: And in many a bower is heard Her sweet praise from bee and bird.
Through the gold hours dreameth she, In her warm heart passionately, Her fair face hung languid-wise: O, her breath of honey and spice!
Like a fair saint virginal Stands your lily, silver and tall; Over all the flowers that be Is my shamrock dear to me.
Shines the lily like the sun, Crystal-pure, a cold, sweet nun; With her austere lip she sings To her heart of heavenly things.
Gazeth through a night of June To her sister-saint, the moon; With the stars communeth long Of the angels and their song.
But when summer died last year Rose and lily died with her; Shamrock stayeth every day, Be the winds or gold or grey.
Irish hills, as grey as the dove, Know the little plant I love; Warm and fair it mantles them Stretching down from throat to hem.
And it laughs o'er many a vale, Sheltered safe from storm and gale; Sky and sun and stars thereof Love the gentle plant I love.
Soft it clothes the ruined floor Of many an abbey, grey and hoar, And the still home of the dead With its green is carpeted.
Roses for an hour of love, With the joy and pain thereof: Stand my lilies white to see All for prayer and purity.
These are white as the harvest moon, Roses flush like the heart of June; But my shamrock, brave and gay, Glads the tired eyes every day.
O, the red rose shineth rare, And the lily saintly fair; But my shamrock, one in three, Takes the inmost heart of me!