A Welcome For Willa
New-minted infant, Pioneer,
no matter that under this sun
is no new matter.  You are new.
You have only now begun
as an inimitable self to know this place.
Familiarity will grow, and with it an
attendant tendency to bear contempt
for earth's redundancy and imperfections.
Contend against this inner bent.
Happily apprehend
that one convention of this world
is irrepressible renewal.
The song of the lark: five notes unfurled
day after day, that bless us yet.
And more than that:
The first secrets remain intact
and potent still to dazzle and confound.
Let long acquaintance make you fond,
but not complacent.  Living thus, you'll do your part
to keep this ancient garden green
and ardor kindled in your heart.

"And now the old story has begun to write itself over there," said Carl softly. "Isn't it queer: there are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before; like the larks in this country, that have been singing the same five notes for thousands of years."  -Willa Cather