Poems (Freston)/The Unwritten Page

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THE UNWRITTEN PAGE
   Thou pure, white page,  There is no friend like thee!    For patience rare,   And kindly sympathy.
   Thou dost not check nor chill   The ready flow    Of thoughts that leave   The human heart aglow.
   No lover thou,   To silence, with a kiss,    The lips that urge   Some burning thought amiss.
   No friend to look askance   At words too bold,   Or frown, because we find   The world so cold.
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   No fear with thee   To reach too far or wide,—   To spread the wings   That heaven doth provide. So do I come to thee in joy, and fain Over thy whiteness would I pour my pain.
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