THE SYMPOSIUM LEADING NOWHERE
I sing of the joy of the Small Paths
The paths that lead nowhere at all,
(Though I never have gone on them nevertheless
They are admirable, and so small!)
I go out at midnight in motors
But, being a Roosevelt, I drive
Straight ahead on the neatly paved highway,
For I wish with much speed to arrive.
Oh, the joy and effulgence of Small Paths
Surrounded with Birds and with Trees
I would love to go down on a Small Path
And sit in communion with these!
Oh, Grackle, I yearn to be with you,
For poetic communion I yearn
But I have ten engagements to speak in the suburbs
And alas, I've no time to return.
Oh, the myriad hours bereft
Trying to be twenty people
And to do things right and left.
I would sit down by a Small Path
And would make me a Large Rhyme
I should love to find my soul there
But I haven't got the time!
Ridgely Torrence
(Who felt that the Bird did not sufficiently uphold Art.)