In splend'rous disregard for time

Climbed we twain to a garden sunk:

There I pondered as she spoke

Whether I could kill a homeless man

(as it was their commune in the night)

And if anyone would take notice thence.

But the thought subsided to lend its place

To the contemplation lofty, lovely, grand.

The sun-spade returned upon its pedestal,

A reminder of motion's limitations,

Especially in its inflexible, rigid clamp.

Such a place, at first glance glorious,

Could become a den of drunks by night

Confounded my senses, as my guide ethereal

Led me out again, to rushing waters running

And a sun's rays brightly burning.