When mornings find you strolling through the wilderness,
Or when in the locks you’re working with glee,
Or perhaps by night when you’re by yourself,
I hope you occasionally think of me.
Not as a distant thought fairly forgotten,
But as an existence you can see, touch or feel.
And thus, overwhelmed, you would propose to
Banish the land and quietly into the seas steal.
We’ll spend the nights and days and the in betweens,
Admiring nature’s work of art,
Eating, drinking, merry-making, of course,
And filling each other with the desires of our heart.
Just the thought, cher Francois,
How glorious, how unfortunate!
For even though it be but words,
Do think of me when you’ve read it.