Where my Books Go

 

WHERE MY BOOKS GO

All the words that I gather,

And all the words that I write,

Must spread out their Wings untiring,

And never rest in their flight,

Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,

And sing to you in the night,

Beyond where the waters are moving,

Storm darkened or starry bright.

- William Butler Yeats

Artist: Kristin Vestgard