On my silken sails on high;
As I upon my ivied tower
My Dragon Kite do fly.
Each gusty breeze that stirs the trees
Strikes on my silken kite
Sending melodies like these
Down from the living light.
The silken string (a dainty thing,
And white and bright and neat),
I fasten to a phonograph
And make the breezes speak.
That's how I write my stories,
The wind upon the string
Makes clear the sun-sky glories
And tells me everything.
- My Confession by Jack London
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