A deep brown-study rendered into simple black and white.
In reverie reflective, has your wayward fancy strayed,
It may be, to last summer's tryst in some wild English glade,
Or old-world forest-garden, where, like Rosalind in Arden,
Your troth you plighted, or, love-lorn, outmourned the Nut-brown Maid?
You're wand'ring in Mahatma-land, and counting astral sheep?
And gathering wool that never grew, a Brownie-led Bo-peep,
Or, possibly, pursuant of an Ego playing truant.
And lost amid the labyrinth of dim hypnotic sleep?
For all I know, you're musing in this meditative trance