Ignorance is a blissful cage,
When caught up in the lights and rage;
It’s nice to jump into the page
Of a lovely book and just forget.
To hear the voices of the friends
Who will adore you till the end;
And though they live near your bookend,
You are caught in their charming net.
The words of our dear Robert Frost,
As he leads you through the woods, lost;
But in the end there is no cost
For all the things that you will get.
And dear, though it is pleasant here,
I would not trade a single year,
Or a drop of my salty tears,
For Bookish Things I can’t regret.