XX

ARCTURUS is his other name, —

I’d rather call him star!

It’s so unkind of science

To go and interfere!

 

I pull a flower from the woods, —

A monster with a glass

Computes the stamens in a breath,

And has her in a class.

 

Whereas I took the butterfly

Aforetime in my hat,

He sits erect in cabinets,

The clover-bells forgot.

 

What once was heaven, is zenith now.

Where I proposed to go

When time’s brief masquerade was done,

Is mapped, and charted too!

 

What if the poles should frisk about

And stand upon their heads!

I hope I ‘m ready for the worst,

Whatever prank betides!

 

Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven ‘s changed!

I hope the children there

Won’t be new-fashioned when I come,

And laugh at me, and stare!

 

I hope the father in the skies

Will lift his little girl, —

Old-fashioned, naughty, everything, —

Over the stile of pearl!