I consider, I think, I sit and dwell. [poem]

Fruit be grown: with the surest pleasure you hear
I break the blossoming buds, and the pure note of delight is
heard in my very breath.

I know all about my senses and my memories and I
do not live by reason alone.

“All imaginations of me,” says all mankind, “Cannot leave me long
for the world where I dwell.”