A Trifle

I went to croon to the moon and swoon and O! so gaily say:

“Where do you go, O crone, alone, to pass the night away?”

The man within he scratched his chin and skin of silver clay:

“I chase the sun for fun alone for she alights my day”

I chased the sun for fun alone; to her I did exclaim:

“Where do you flee, O me! so free, when clouds give up the rain?”

The lady bright, alight, on height, she put to me this claim:

“To stars, my kin, I sing and ring, for they ease all my pain.”

To stars, her gang, I sang and rang, of them I did enquire:

“How do you cope or mope or hope when winds are rising higher?”

The lights so gay allay all day and tell me their desire:

“We list’ to clouds so proud, so loud, for they see all transpire.”

I list’ to clouds, so proud, so loud, and put my question so:

Are you so wise or spies in guise and wherefore do you know?”

The clouds they thundered black, alack! and thus began to blow:

“Why would you know who wander so and whither do you go?”

I turned and went and gave my vent and looked up to the sky:

“O whither where, or here, or there, O do I yearn to hie?”

But then in mirth, o’er berth of earth, I ‘gan to jump and fly:

“There be no where nor here nor there: I’ll wander till I die!”

Nicholas Babich