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Impressions | ||
| The small hard ball on the patient tee Will never fall where it ought to be. It soars aloft but it goes astray Inside deep woods where it's out of play. ** Beauty is a sometime thing. Sometimes you see it, sometimes you don't. It's not the gold or ornaments But simple curves and lines. Or maybe it's inside Where you can only sense it. * Soaring plaintive melody Fills my heart with happiness, Giving me a spirit free That will evil thoughts redress. Let the music rise and fall, Sometimes soft and sometimes loud. I am captive in its thrall, Shedding blues and feeling proud. | ||
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