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Somewhere—in Silence—He has hid his rare lifeFrom our gross eyes.‘Tis an instant’s play.‘Tis a fond Ambush—Just to make BlissEarn her own surprise!But—should the playProve piercing earnest—Should the glee—glaze—In Death’s—stiff—stare—Wou ld not the funLook too expensive!Would not the jest—Have crawled too far!

And bear to all my friends,Drinking to her no more astir,By beck, or burn, or moor!

Dawn—to the Teneriffe—Dice—to the Maid—Morning means just Risk—to the Lover—Just revelation—to the Beloved—Epicures—date a Breakfast—by it—Brides—an Apocalypse—Worlds—a Flood—Faint-going Lives—Their Lapse from Sighing—Faith—The Experiment of Our Lord

Ah! Indeed!May this ‘dishonor’ be?If I were half so fine myselfI’d notice nobody!‘Sown in corruption’!Not so fast!Apostle is askew!Corinthians 1. 15. narratesA Circumstance or two!

Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you soWhat all the world suspect?An hour, and gay on every treeYour secret, perched in ecstasyDefies imprisonment!An hour in Chrysalis to pass,Then gay above receding grassA Butterfly to go!A moment to interrogate,Then wiser than a ‘Surrogate,’The Universe to know!

And you should live—And time should gurgle on—And morn should beam—And noon should burn—As it has usual done—If Birds should build as earlyAnd Bees as bustling go—One might depart at optionFrom enterprise below!‘Tis sweet to know that stocks will standWhen we with Daisies lie—That Commerce will continue—And Trades as briskly fly—It makes the parting tranquilAnd…