VI
Your eyes are caught at first by empty shows—
Bright colours, smiling faces, forms of grace.
To chase gold butterflies by green hedgerows,
To play regardless both of time and space
In unrestricted freedom, and to race
Propriety and prudence out of breath,
Seem pleasant and surprisingly in place
In this fair world where, as the preacher saith,
What profits he that works in that he laboureth?