I rarely have one favorite book for long. As there are so many wonderful books out there, I generally have a varying list of ten or twelve favorites.
However, one book which I have not yet tired of (nor do I think I shall tire of it), is G. K. Chesterton’s The Ballad of the White Horse.
I have an innate love for historical fiction (when it’s any good), and this is no exception. As G. K. explained, though, this is not historical fiction, but popular.
There are two things I really love about this poem. Firstly, I love the beauty of the language, the color, the intricacy, the wonder of the words. The other thing is the rhythm and cadence of the words, the flow and the grace of the language. Beautiful.