Having been alone quite often then,
I was anxious to think of solitude,
not as a desperate enterprise,
but as a trial. At other times,
I would require evidence of Him;
there, on a steamer heading south,
it was enough to think of those peculiar birds
inhabiting the sea, whitish and supple
on the blurred horizon, in order to recall
that their deliverance was mine.
We kept clear of Catholics throughout our tour.
When the Monsignore requested me to remain in Rome,
I replied, 'We have a work to do in England.'
On the journey to Sicily, seized
with a longing to conclude whatever chores
His hand assigned, Achilles' words
...