* * * * *
A Sum there is that derides Us –
Aren’t we all what seems?
But then Upsurges a giant –
And what He – sows I – glean –

Which way to look – So delicate
Hiccups the Weathervane –
We stage ourselves Pulchinello –
A Clown may Call – His own –

Yet amity Destructible –
Whoever owns the ground –
Attains to what Laughter proffers –
Where I nor He be found –

* * * * *