Of what Nature will our Love be? Will it grow like a weed, that wildest of the kingdom, fast and vigorous, encompassing everything in its tight grasp. Or will it metamorphose, as divine things do, into a grand oak, proud and sturdy with roots dug deep down into earth. Or again will it become an exotic fruit tree, hitherto unknown to these lands, with bloom so delicately fragile that it cannot be plucked without spoil, but must drop of its own into an gaping mouth when ripe. But oh! Pray let it not be as some potted plant or other imprisoned – though thought “cultivated” – garden flower, retarded by laws more chaotic than natures own.
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