(To Thomas Jefferson)
Let others tell of how with star-tipped pen
He formed the structure for our liberty,
Then toiled to build with wise, far-visioned men,
The architecture for democracy.
But let me sing his love for solitude;
How music moved him when wild grasses stirred.
I would portray him in a gentle mood--
Love crowned his home and spoke the silver word.
The poetry of hills, smooth plains of blue,
The miracle of birth ... in dreams were spun.
How tenderly he led his "Patty" through
The "shadowed valley" back into the sun.
Then came the journey he returned alone ...
But knew love's triumph over death and stone.
