Written on a cold evening
The poet must work with brush and paper,
But this is not what makes the poem.
A man doesn't go in search of a poem-
The poem comes in search of him.
Written on a cold evening
The poet must work with brush and paper,
But this is not what makes the poem.
A man doesn't go in search of a poem-
The poem comes in search of him.
Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings.- Sherlock Holmes