I sip from rose, jasmine, bluebell I flit from field to wood Unfinicky, I like it all well Nectar or fruit, it’s all food. Astrology, quantum physics, Music or poetry, Philology or statistics, Brain science or podiatry, All fine, all good, all nice to eat. A cow I am, I browse. Each leaf is savoury and sweet, And full of sap and juice. I don’t dig deep, I scratch the surface For chance of striking gold or better, water in just one place is low, so explore, be bold. Be like the cow, and sample feed From all the fields and move On, fresher pastures wait, no need To linger, stuck in a grove. I fall in love but never wed. I pick a book on art, or take a physics tome to bed, And then I coolly part. I am a bachelor of science Or of humanities. I play the field with clear conscience, And so I keep my peace. Perhaps history is a bore, Or linguistics too dry. But less I know, I like the more, Their faults not mine to pry. I read, forget, I read again. A biological tidbit Is lost, makes room for a fine quatrain, But not if it strains my wit. It’s true, I don’t drink deep, but taste I shall the Pierian spring, For life is brief, no time to waste, Take the joy each day may bring. Postscript: be that as it may, one needs Home ground, stronghold, one’s own, Some comfortable field that feeds Sweet fruit from seeds long sown.