Too much of a subject can interfere,
Be a drag, so subvert the procedure to which it refers
That the wisest course is to visit it just for fun,
Have fun, and make a clean getaway—wisdom
Already shed in the shiver of pilgrim foot
On the longed-for soil. Truly no one ahead,
Until this is where our lives become sweet and true,
Begun on the clumpy green with its circle of flowers,
Its flagpole and founders’ memorial, map
Of self-guided tours, viewing sites, trail.
And farther, more deeply recessed and peacefuller
Still, the substantive structures themselves
Are seen meeting their needs in scale: shops,
Ammo dumps, taverns and houses of prayer. But
Who could be sure of a tenure except in this world,
Fair between the river and the sea?—where the birds
And the natives, so enthused by our coming,
Run back and forth like children on the shore.