My verse and I, we have a deal of fun.
Together, ours the colors as the sun
Falls splashing in the paint-pot of the west;
And valiant stars that nightly march abreast
Are ours to share until the night is done.
Then when these stars with morning overrun
Retreat before the dawn that most folks shun,
A new fresh hold on life we manifest,
My verse and I.
This quiet of the day that’s just begun
We call our very own, for then is spun
The poetry that spreads its balm to rest
My work-squeezed mind; and though we can attest
It brings no gold, we are a living one,
My verse and I.
by Ray Romine Monday, January 24, 1944
