For Christmas my grandmother gave me the book, Early Moon, a compilation of poems by Carl Sandburg. Inside, written on a yellowed page, I found this quaint inscription in faded ink:

Dear Ray,

"We give all we have to give
That the name may live longer than the man.

We live only for glory
To gild our lives for a moment's span.

Yet we who forget so soon
The loveliness of a scarlet leaf,
Find it strange that trees should wait
So long, for glory that is so brief."

S. Bateman

May the poems in this book give you joy - - - as much pleasures as they can.
For you have given me much Joy in our friendship.

Here's luck,

G. Lenor Arnold


Fire For Life said...

Isn't it wonderful to recieve an old book with writing in it? I love finding treasured little notes inside the browned pages of decades weathered book.

andrei said...


emelina said...

writing in books is the best art.