I, the child with opened face can never belong to a single place; to a single tongue can never be wed for I am the child too far ahead: too far ahead to find again sweetness enough in one refrain; too far ahead to turn me back into acceptancy of lack.
If I am fed - then the whole earth's bread must be my bread. My words must pass as birds on air out from and into everywhere. Not less than all may I henceforth call my own, my dear. For I have come a way too long, too long a way through broken things and coming, have too forward grown ever to loose my hold upon that Far Countree I have seen
or sing a lesser song than what belongs to it.