You come too. My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make. It was no dream of the gift of idle hours, Or easy gold at the hand of king or queen Or anything but what one's hands can make.
Click any product to generate a realistic preview. Up to 3 at a time.
* Initial load can take up to 90 seconds — revising the preview in another color is nearly instant.
"The reason why we have poetry is to have a momentary stay against confusion."
"The world is full of people who are always wanting to be somebody else."
"I've never dared to be radical when young for fear it would make me conservative when old."
"A poem is never a put-up job, so to speak. It begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness."
"The most important thing is to be yourself."
Your cart is empty
