Hands in pockets down the lane, Whistling who knows what refrain, Strolls a boy in shabby clothes. What he’s thinking no one knows. Where he’s going none can say, But who can doubt he’s on his way?

The boy is gone. Now age and pain Companion me along the lane. I ask the Master Tokuzan, “Tell me, tell me if you can.” The Master Tokuzan replies, “An empty flagon full of flies.”

Hands in pockets down the lane, Strolls a little boy again. The hedge is green, the sun is bright, No end in view, no soul in sight. There’s honeysuckle down the lane, And sweet earth fragrant after rain.

— The goose is out by William John Gabb (Page 121)