The dog is in the sun. The sun's above the trees,
And their leaves now are bursting back. An afternoon
Draws to a close as I look over pictures of the splendid
Woodwork of a shrine. The loveliest of women was in
View at work, at last, today. Uncounted reproductions
Of the paintings of amazing artists sit perhaps ten steps
Away, as do the words of gifted poets. Life, well guarded,
Brims with pleasures. When it isn't, when I read
The wretched scrawls of clumsy poets, when I see
The decent cursed, and murderers and fascists praised,
The good in life is pushed away. I've stood my guard
Today to see that that dog dozes peacefully, and that I
Will not be diverted from a pleasing life.