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 (For A.
) What distant mountains thrill and glow Beneath our Lady Folly's tread? Why has she left us, wise in woe, Shrewd, practical, uncomforted? We cannot love or dream or sing, We are too cynical to pray, There is no joy in anything Since Lady Folly went away.
Many a knight and gentle maid, Whose glory shines from years gone by, Through ignorance was unafraid And as a fool knew how to die.
Saint Folly rode beside Jehanne And broke the ranks of Hell with her, And Folly's smile shone brightly on Christ's plaything, Brother Juniper.
Our minds are troubled and defiled By study in a weary school.
O for the folly of the child! The ready courage of the fool! Lord, crush our knowledge utterly And make us humble, simple men; And cleansed of wisdom, let us see Our Lady Folly's face again.

by Joyce Kilmer
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