There was a man of pilgrim's might
Whose feet would hound with real respite
His head hung low, but thoughts gave flight
To smiles he flashed out through the night

And on he came to seeped well
And burned with petal thirsting smell
He cupped his hand to pool to tell
Of washed brows in walking hell

And then he saw a girl with hair
Of yellowest sunlight's bounty share
And told his heart its meal is there
The meadow grasseed blew nowhere

She cooled his brow with gentle hand
She ushered back the gourd's demand
And though the dirt gave way to land
No borders had her goodness banned

He woke beneath the willow tree
In cradle of arms' ecstasy
And she joined him to join the free
With daffodils afore their glee

Yet still they walk, but tell me this,
What is the road, but wartime bliss?
What is the sea without the hiss
Of beauty's scent and midnight's kiss?