Explore "Scraps" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There's a habit I have nurtured, / From the sentimental time / When my life was like a story, / And my heart a happy rhyme, -- / Of clipping from the paper, / Or magazine, perhaps, / The idle songs of dreamers, / Which I treasure as my scraps.
They hide among my letters, / And they find a cozy nest / In the bosom of my wrapper, / And the pockets of my vest; / They clamber in my fingers / Till my dreams of wealth relapse / In fairer dreams than Fortune's / Though I find them only scraps.