(For Robert Cortez Holliday)
If I should live in a forest
And sleep underneath a tree,
...
Vain is the chiming of forgotten bells
That the wind sways above a ruined shrine.
Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwells
Hunger that craves immortal Bread and Wine.
...
Now is the rhymer's honest trade
A thing for scornful laughter made.
The merchant's sneer, the clerk's disdain,
...