Fran Singley Mercade
Do I come upon a sterile landscape,
Is it that something's gone awry?
There's nothing here about which there's to make
Or to catch my eyes even to a try.
If that be so that there is this about me,
That I've come upon a vista made to strain,
I would think that it is meant for me to see
Not a thing more out there but in my brain.
For what is this but only scenery,