THE GIFT BOOK (To J. R.)
Reading edition
A book is a kindly gracious thing. Each has a particular gift to bring. It may be the wealth Of a wonderful life, Or the thrilling adventure Of Jungle strife. Perhaps it’s a present Of orient gold, Tales of Aladdin Enchantingly told. Maybe a view Of olden days, Knighthood—Romance, Flowery ways. And again a journey To lands afar, Where strange things happen, And wonders are. All of them—Gift books But plainly I see, Not one of them holds The gift for me. I want a book That will lazily roam Down the dear Pathway To Folks back home.