Beside the fences, till some purple noon,
I find the passion flower, in panoply,
Awaiting me, and I shall stoop and pick.
But do not think I am without a friend!
I have my own familiar Imp for company—
The secret, mocking creature of my heart,
Which keeps me laughing when I’m set to cry,
And fleers the cautions I thought principles.
He’s captain now. We’ll see how he’ll provide,
For food and drink and thought, and company.