178
I cautious, scanned my little life
I winnowed what would fade
From what would last till Heads like mine
Should be a-dreaming laid
I put the latter in a Barn
The former, blew away
I went one winter morning
And lo - my priceless Hay
Was not upon the "Scaffold"
Was not upon the "Beam"
And from a thriving Farmer
A Cynic, I became
Whether a Thief did it
Whether it was the wind
Whether Deity's guiltless
My business is, to find!
So I begin to ransack!
How is it Hearts, with Thee?
Art thou within the little Barn
Love provided Thee?