We are too civil to books. For a few golden sentences we will turn over and actually read a volume of four or five hundred pages.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
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She Moves Through the Fair
My young love said to me
"My Mother won't mind
And my Father won't slight you
For your lack of kind"
Then she stepped away from me
And this she did say
"It will not be long love til our Wedding day"
She stepped away from me
And she moved through the fair
And fondly I watched her
Move here and move there
Then she made her way homeward
With one star awake
As the swan in the evening
Moves over the lake
I dreamt it last night
That my dead love came in
So softly she moved
That her feet made no din
Then she came close beside me
And this she did say
"It will not be long love, til our Wedding day"