A childhood favorite, author E. B. White, penned classics like "Charlotte's Web" and "Stuart Little". While reading recently, I stumbled across an E. B. White poem, The Conch, that is stunningly beautiful.
The Conch
Hold a baby to your ear
As you would a shell:
Sounds of centuries you hear
New centuries foretell.
Who can break a baby's code?
And which is the older --
The listener or his small load?
The held or the holder?
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