Look, Hasn't My Body Already Felt Like

Sing, If You Can Sing, And It Not Still Be Musical Inside Yourself.

Going To Walden It Isn't Very Far As Highways Lie. I Might Be Back By Nightfall, Having Seen The Rough Pines, And The Stones, And The Clear Water. Friends Argue That I Might Be Wiser For It. They Do Not Hear That Far-off Yankee Whisper: How Dull We Grow From Hurrying Here And There! Many Have Gone, And Think Me Half A Fool To Miss A Day Away In The Cool Country. Maybe. But In A Book I Read And Cherish, Going To Walden Is Not So Easy A Thing As A Green Visit. It Is The Slow And Difficult Trick Of Living, And Finding It Where You Are.

The Sea Isn't A Place But A Fact, And A Mystery.

He Is Exactly The Poem I Wanted To Write.

Do You Cherish Your Humble And Silky Life?