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.