Happiness is a thought, a state of being All stoics bear their own fruit, risking oblivion What man or woman…
I, danced along the strings, I knew so well Ever careful of a wrongly placed foot Life dangled precipitously upon…
Deep and down he dove- time became an unknown The swell rose and slashed- his body managed the clash …
Father of mine, with your absent care Words unexpressed are heard nonetheless He spake hardly at all, but showed the…
They all wish upon a star, to change just what they are Go back, do it again! -'d change my…
This body given o'er unto me, be not what I want It drives and pushes, throws down deep, and calls…
She called upon my touching divides, please let them be We laughed and sighed throughout the night, glory let us…
The following is a poem written by George Birdseye in the late 1800s. I did not write this obviously and…