The words: its (in line 4), even (in line 7) and rampant (in...

          Text 1
01     There, in the pasture greenery,
         Sun mottling Nature's breast,
         It was the summer wind's song
         That filled me with its crest.
05     Emotion running rampant--
         Rivers to the sea--
         I could not even fathom the flood of you and me.

         But take me in your arms again
         And do not talk of time.
10     Let flesh rub flesh to parchment--
         Pale flowers crushed--
         And grind more mortar for my soul's room . . .
         Paint mirrors for my mind.

(Michela Curtis: www.poetry.com)


According to Text 1, answer the questions below: