I do not sit and sigh for wealth untold,
It never thrusts itself into my schemes;
I shrink from all your piles of clanking gold,
Better my sparkling hoard of golden dreams.
A life of limousined and jeweled ease is but a round of fathomless ennui.
Your motor cars, your pearls, your sables, these are naught to me.
Better a homely flat in Harlem's wilds, than a costly living's spurious benefits.
Better a simple buttercake at Childs' than caviar and stalled ox at the Ritz.
Your unearned gold to me, is shot with flaws; A life of honest toil I'd make my lot.
Which really makes it very nice, because it's what I've got.
Hawk family weekend - This last weekend was a busy one for the Tompkins Square hawks, and I was able to see all four of them, which was a real treat. On Saturday, the native fle...
1 day ago