A BOOK
He ate and drank the precious words,His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!
Old London Bridge - Only for Poets
Connecting the Poets who digging heart of me Still death - Sabarnasri
HEARTY WELCOME & HAVE A NICE STAY
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
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