W h a t soul

is w ith o u t fa u lt?

N obody studies
happiness

E v e ry tim e th e cock crows

I salu te him

I h av e no longer an y excuse
for envy. M y life

has been given its orders: th e seasons

seize

th e soul an d th e body, an d m ake m ock

of a n y dispersed effort. T he h o u r of d e a th

is th e only tresp ass

II. T he charge

dogw ood flakes

th e green

th e petals from th e apple-trees

fall for th e feet to w alk on

th e birds are so m a n y th e y are

loud, in th e a ftern o o n

th e y d istra c t, as so m a n y bees do
su ddenly all over th e place

W ith spring one know s to d a y to see

t h a t in th e m orning each th in g

is sep a ra te b u t b y noon
th e y have m elted in to each o th e r

42

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