I love the books I love the words

but oceans speak what I can see

like wings give flight to stupid birds

waves move the air and that moves me

 

It's not the Grand or Gaudy Jewels

that steer my shallow eye

those shiny trinkets snares for fools

that pass then pass them by

 

But like a breeze the words can lift

the jester from the page

and impart to him a priceless gift

no tongue his joy could e'er assuage

 

and I the minstrel clown am glad

I read a line that set me free

for no more of joy was ever had

than when I sailed that conjured Sea