“Come to us, youth, tell us truly why there is madness in your eyes?”
“I know not what wine of wild poppy I have drunk, that there is this madness in my eyes.”
“Ah, shame!”
“Well, some are wise and some foolish, some are watchful and some careless. There are eyes that smile and eyes that weep—and madness is in my eyes.”
“Youth, why do you stand so still under the shadow of the tree?”
“My feet are languid with the burden of my heart, and I stand still in the shadow.”
“Ah, shame!”
“Well, some march on their way and some linger, some are free and some are fettered—and my feet are languid with the burden of my heart.”
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