XLII

WHERE ships of purple gently toss

On seas of daffodil,

Fantastic sailors mingle,

And then — the wharf is still.

XLI

LIKE mighty footlights burned the red

At bases of the trees, —

The far theatricals of day

Exhibiting to these.

‘T was universe that did applaud

While, chiefest of the crowd,

Enabled by his royal dress,

Myself distinguished God.

XL

SHE sweeps with many-colored brooms,

And leaves the shreds behind;

Oh, housewife in the evening west,

Come back, and dust the pond!

You dropped a purple ravelling in,

You dropped an amber thread;

And now you ‘ve littered all the East

With duds of emerald!

And still she plies her spotted brooms,

And still the aprons fly,

Till brooms fade softly into stars —

And then I come away.

XXXIX

BRING me the sunset in a cup,

Reckon the morning’s flagons up,

   And say how many dew;

Tell me how far the morning leaps,

Tell me what time the weaver sleeps

   Who spun the breadths of blue!

Write me how many notes there be

In the new robin’s ecstasy

   Among astonished boughs;

How many trips the tortoise makes,

How many cups the bee partakes,—

   The debauchee of dews!

Also, who laid the rainbow’s piers,

Also, who leads the docile spheres

   By withes of supple blue?

Whose fingers string the stalactite,

Who counts the wampum of the night,

   To see that none is due?

Who built this little Alban house

And shut the windows down so close

   My spirit cannot see?

Who ’ll let me out some gala day,

With implements to fly away,

   Passing pomposity?

XXXVIII

SOUTH winds jostle them,

Bumblebees come,

Hover, hesitate,

Drink, and are gone.

Butterflies pause

On their passage Cashmere;

I, softly plucking,

Present them here!

XXXVII

THE wind begun to rock the grass

With threatening tunes and low, —

He flung a menace at the earth,

A menace at the sky.

The leaves unhooked themselves from trees

And started all abroad;

The dust did scoop itself like hands

And throw away the road.

The wagons quickened on the streets,

The thunder hurried slow;

The lightning showed a yellow beak,

And then a livid claw.

The birds put up the bars to nests,

The cattle fled to barns;

There came one drop of giant rain,

And then, as if the hands

That held the dams had parted hold,

The waters wrecked the sky,

But overlooked my father’s house,

Just quartering a tree.

XXXVI

FREQUENTLY the woods are pink,

Frequently are brown;

Frequently the hills undress

Behind my native town.

Oft a head is crested

I was wont to see,

And as oft a cranny

Where it used to be.

And the earth, they tell me,

On its axis turned, —

Wonderful rotation

By but twelve performed!

XXXV

THE rat is the concisest tenant.

He pays no rent, —

Repudiates the obligation,

On schemes intent.

Balking our wit

To sound or circumvent,

Hate cannot harm

A foe so reticent.

Neither decree

Prohibits him,

Lawful as

Equilibrium.

XXXIV

IT sounded as if the streets were running,

And then the streets stood still.

Eclipse was all we could see at the window,

And awe was all we could feel.

By and by the boldest stole out of his covert,

To see if time was there.

Nature was in her beryl apron,

Mixing fresher air.

XXXIII

HOW happy is the little stone

That rambles in the road alone,

And does n’t care about careers,

And exigencies never fears;

Whose coat of elemental brown

A passing universe put on;

And independent as the sun,

Associates or glows alone,

Fulfilling absolute decree

In casual simplicity.