He read to himself:
“I know a land where the streets are paved
With the things which we meant to achieve;
It is walled with the money we meant to have saved,
And the pleasures for which we grieve—
And kind words unspoken, the promises broken,
And many a coveted boon,
Are stowed away there in that land of somewhere,
The land of “Pretty Soon.”
There are uncut jewels of possible fame