O Child, adorable of Cosmic Throne,
Has the amnesia, then, so grievous grown—
Love of delight, forgotten, with Thy name?
Does Thy command, Surprise me, sound the same
As Sure, the usual; igniting neither smile,
Nor springing cadence? I’ll not steal Thy nose
And taunt Thee, Sweet. The silliness is done.
’Tis clear: as prairie bloom and eve and morn,
So long as their mosaic life enthralls,
Thy Sovereignty remembers, after all.
--G. Saintiny 2010
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