Classic Poem

These are but words, and I have more than these to give you,
I have moments to give you, delicate as fern-leaves,
Cloudy and clear as quartz,
Colored like rose-hips and wild grasses,
Various as the infinite rain.

I have hours to give you like stretches of shell-strewn beach,
(The sea within sight, within sound) —
And hours when there are no shells, no beach,
But only sea.

I have years to give you;

These are but words.