The Road To Colla

THE blossoms of a Judas tree Deep pink against an azure sea, A silver moth on thoughtless wing, A hidden bird that lights to sing, A little cloud that wanders by, Across the endless field of sky.

A city in the far away, Upon the hills beyond the bay, And over all, the sun divine, Pouring his stream of burning wine Like nectar strong with youth and mirth, Into this goblet of the earth!