"Et quid curae nobis de generibus et speciebus? Ex uno Verbo omnia, et
unum loquuntur omnia. Cui omnia unum sunt, quique ad unum omnia trahit
et omnia in uno videt, potest stabilis corde esse."--THOMAS A KEMPIS.
I
When poppies fired the nut-brown wheat,
My love went by with sun-stained feet:
I followed her laughter, followed her, followed her, all a summer's
morn!
But O, from an elfin palace of air,
A wild bird sang a song so rare,
I stayed to listen and--lost my Fair,
And walked the world forlorn.