What is this life if, when cobwebs clog,
We have no time to sit and blog.
No time to gaze into our dreams
And write, contented, near the streams.
No time to see, when snowflakes fall,
The stately pines, majestic, tall.
No time to share the beauty found
Along the woodland's mossy ground.
No time to wait, to linger long,
To hear the earth's sweet, mirthful song.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stop and stare.
1 comment:
Oh, Maman, I love it! A full justification for my "staring problem". I give no apologies, I love to look! Just like my mother! xoxox
Post a Comment