If he is a true pleasure-seeker
let him track one of these little wandering
woodland streams. Glory! I would sooner
give my life to one of these than to
pursue a thousand years in my
sweet dream.
If he is a true praise-singer
let him pause where falling water speaks
with flashing tongues. I have heard
this song and seen her lissome body
rising in new corn and the first
squash blossom.
If he is a faithful lover
let him wake when first light crackles
the topmost needles of the pine, and gather a
wet blossom and a piece of bone
to return to the flowing lady, and offer
up a love song of his own.