To Wicky: My Wire

Where the dog goes there go I:

To the laurel bush we hie,

To the.elm and maple tree,

To the oak, with bel-esprit,

Fall and summer, airily:

Airily, merrily do we skip now

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

Grove and coppice we espy:

To the greenwood grass we fly,

Thicket, spinney, scrub and fern,

This way-that way-see us turn!

What's the difference to him?

Life's a dog's life, life's a whim,

Under the blossom-laden limb.

Willow, chestnut, poplar, beech:

Stout lad! lead the way to each,

While I follow, follow, follow,

Like a wheeling, reeling swallow.

Fate's a fiddler, life's a dance,

Life's a trail of circumstance,

Life's a timber-strewn expanse.

Ash and aspen, birch and pine,

Sapling, creeper, bush and vine;

Park and pasture, furze and brake,

Our appointed way we take:

Morning, noontide, and at night,

With dispatch and with delight,

These our duties we recite.

Trunk to trunk and bole to bole,

And the last tree is our goal.

This is life, lad-c'est la vie!-

Searching out the final tree.

Where you stand and misdemeanor

Blossoms thrive and grass grows greener,

And the very air is keener.

Ave, Wick, three-legged dog,

Tilted now beside your log!

Time and change can nothing show

That you don't already know.

All the wisdom of the past

And the future comes at last

Back to earth, and, by the rood,

I admire your attitude!