.                         Y
                             o
                                u
                             k
                                 i
                             s
                                 s
                             t
                                 h
                             e
                                 s
                             o
                                 u
                              l
                               ­  r
                              i
                               ­  g
                              h
                               ­   t
                              o
                            ­      u
                               t
                                  o
                           ­    f
                                  m
                           ­    e

I wish for but a wonder
To hear the laugh of thunder,
   To feel the cool touch of rain;
To taste the salt that drops up high;
   To smell the watered bits of grain;
To see it pass in watchful eye,
And freeze-- by singular ray,
Piercing through clouds of skyline grey.

Words of history, no matter how lively or harsh they may be, live on longer than both you or me; they deserve our utmost respect. Reference exceptional icons of the pen and perhaps those among you will recognize the craftsmanship, if only more of us but read the laurels of time.