I know a place all fennel-green and fine </br> Far from the white ice cap, the glacial flaw, </br> Where shy mud hen and dainty porcupine </br> Dance… - William Jay Smith

Now touch the air softly, </br> Step gently. One, two... </br> I’ll love you till roses </br> Are robin’s-egg blue; </br> I’ll love you till gravel </br> Is eaten for bread, </br> And lemons are orange, </br> And lavender’s red.

Not ringed but rare, not gilled but polyp-like, </br> having sprung up overnight— These mushrooms of the gods, resembling human organs </br> uprooted, rooted only on the air,

And life is a rain-swept mirror </br> Through which perpetually </br> A girl with bright hair flowing, </br> Dappled dark coat blowing, </br> Into the unknown, knowing, </br> Walks with me.