Wednesday, September 9, 2009


(Sonnet Variation)

He is a noble man who walks alone.
His tub the river, the mountain cave his home.
His food comes from the trees and the green hills.
His companions the birds and the wild beasts
Do sense in him a friend never a foe.
They see in his calm gaze a deep affection
That conquers their ferocity.

His lack of fear is alien to the city.
His freedom abhors civilization.
Cunning, material power, the quid pro quo,
Are as removed from him as are the feasts.
He has mastered himself. Nothing he wills,
Nothing he wants, nothing he owns.
He is a noble man who walks alone.

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