such a troublesome woe it is, dearest—
to face with resolve some matter at hand
and find by which no means it is clearest—
and it is not, then, a “why” which we demand,
but merely how, as though it were nearest;
in deed, intricacies with words seem dull,
but manner and man mean one thing, in truth:
have the heart fill as does one’s breathe, full—
the wonder of it all as proof of youth!—
so freedom reigns and rains both must come through:
the meaning and means to the two make one,
“the reason and the rhyme”, the song, so sung.
and all, while I dwell on this sort of end,
bid me to look and in you find a friend.