To travel far, there is no better ship than a book.
I'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, "That must have been the sun!
Time is short and full, like an outgrown Frock - .
The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.
The Truth never flaunted a sign.
Memory is a strange Bell—Jubilee, and Knell.