The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T. S. Eliot
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
Because our companions are urban dwellers (though originally from the Natural North), we posited the proposal to take the back roads to our place for a fleeting inspection. The venture took us through the Villages of Burnstown and Waba, White Lake and the Villages of Blakeney (formerly Rosebank) and Pakenham.
Apparently the clerical influence on the rural population was alive this Sunday morning - as the country roads were peaceful and unobstructed. We wound about the map, deliberately keeping off the grid, even coming upon a deer wandering across the dirt road at Bennie's Corners into the field, quizzically regarding our invasion. On the 8th Line Ramsay Township we passed by the Mill of Kintail (former residence of R. Tait Mackenzie, MD and renowned sculptor) and the home of the late Leonard Lee of Lee Valley Tools.
As we neared the metropolis of Almonte I diverted the patient wanderers into the Auld Kirk cemetery for a glimpse at our final piece of real estate.