[ A ]
Long ago, in Kentucky, I, a boy, stoodBy a dirt road, in first dark, and heardThe great geese hoot northward.I could not see them, there being no moonAnd the stars sparse. I heard them.I did not know what was happening in my heart.It was the season before the elderberry blooms,Therefore they were going north.The sound was passing northward.
[ B ]
Tell me a story.In this century, and moment, of mania,Tell me a story.Make it a story of great distances, and starlight.The name of the story will be Time,But you must not pronounce its name.Tell me a story of deep delight.