Poetry for Thought
If all that we say
In a single day,
With never a word left out,
Were printed each night
In clear black and white
T’would prove queer reading no doubt.
And then just suppose
Ere one’s eyes he could close
He must read the day’s record through;
Then wouldn’t one sigh
And wouldn’t he try
A great deal less taking to do?
And I more than half think
That many a kink
Would be smoothed in life’s tangled thread
If one-half that we say
In a single day
Were just left forever unsaid.
(Author Unknown)
In a single day,
With never a word left out,
Were printed each night
In clear black and white
T’would prove queer reading no doubt.
And then just suppose
Ere one’s eyes he could close
He must read the day’s record through;
Then wouldn’t one sigh
And wouldn’t he try
A great deal less taking to do?
And I more than half think
That many a kink
Would be smoothed in life’s tangled thread
If one-half that we say
In a single day
Were just left forever unsaid.
(Author Unknown)
so true...Anne of Green Gables may be a lovable story, but whenever I begin to imitate her sheer amount of words, I regret it!
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