How the Hen Sold Her Eggs to the Stingy Priest

An egg is a grand thing for a journey.

It will make you a small meal on the road

and a shape most serviceable to the hand

for darning socks, and for barter

a purse of gold opens doors anywhere.

If I wished for a world better than this one

I would keep, in an egg till it was wanted,

the gold earth floating on a clear sea.

If I wished for an angel, that would be my way,

the wings in gold waiting to wake,

the feet in gold waiting to walk,

and the heart that no one believed in

beating and beating the gold alive.