[BNP/E3, 78A – 44]

Delirium

On the Road.

In a cart.

Here we go while morning life burns

     In the sunlight's golden ocean,

And upon our faces a freshness comes,

     A freshness whose soul is motion.

Up the hills, up! Down to the vales!

     Now in the plains more slow!

Now in swift turns the shaken cart reels.

     Soundless in sand now we go!

But we must come to some village or town,

     And our eyes show sorrow at it.

Could we for ever and ever go on

     In the sun and air that we hit;

On an infinite road, at a |mighty|[1] pace,

     With endless and free commotion,

With the sun e’er round us and on our face

     A freshness whose soul is motion!

Alexander Search.

October 26 — 1908.

[1] |mighty| ^{/unthought\/unknown\}