Much have I wandered from city to sea
To stare so blankly at the cross in the road;
In couraging that dust that thus billowed
‘tween trees; and in the swirling around me
Stun so completely my lungs that I be
Unable to catch my breath!  That abode
Below my heart has condemned that its mode
Be unwilling to welcome the breeze.
O God!  To your welcomes does my voice call
That ‘midst this Carrefour with maidhood stood
Mine cherub whose voice dost cast off my pall
And loose in me the wind, that might I should
Take in her scent; or break by starts and stall
My pulmonic dolor did dread never would.
.