Photo credit to PP
Let those who will stride on their barren roads
And prick themselves to haste with self-made goads,
Unheeding, as they struggle day by day,
If flowers be sweet or skies be blue or gray:
For me, the lone, cool way by purling brooks,
The solemn quiet of the woodland nooks,
A song-bird somewhere trilling sadly gay,
A pause to pick a flower beside the way.
-Paul Laurence Dunbar
Each time it rings
i think it is for
me but it is
not for me nor for
anyone it merely
rings and we
serve it bitterly
together, they and I
-William Carlos Williams
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