Reading Time: < 1 minute

Poem

The brain within its groove
Runs evenly and true;
But let a splinter swerve,
‘T were easier for you
To put the water back
When floods have slit the hills,
And scooped a turnpike for themselves,
And blotted out the mills!

Previous Poem
The Blue Jay
Next Poem
The Brain—is Wider Than The Sky