Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure, Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me.
Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure, Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me.
Dreams, books, are each a world and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good. Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
Up up my friend, and quit your books, Or surely you 'll grow double Up up my friend, and clear your looks Why all this toil and trouble.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories