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So when the Hills decay—My Faith must take the Purple WheelTo show the Sun the way—‘Tis first He steps upon the Vane—And then—upon the Hill—And then abroad the World He goTo do His Golden Will—And if His Yellow feet should miss—The Bird would not arise—The Flowers would slumber on their Stems—No Bells have Paradise—How dare…

Our share of morning—Our blank in bliss to fillOur blank in scorning—Here a star, and there a star,Some lose their way!Here a mist, and there a mist,Afterwards—Day!

The Ruin was withinOh cunning wreck that told no taleAnd let no Witness inThe mind was built for mighty FreightFor dread occasion plannedHow often foundering at SeaOstensibly, on LandA not admitting of the woundUntil it grew so wideThat all my Life had entered itAnd there were troughs besideA closing of the simple lidThat opened to…

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!

Blameless of a Name—Efflorescence of a Sunset—Reproduced—the same—Seed, had I, my Purple SowingShould endow the Day—Not a Topic of a Twilight—Show itself away—Who for tilling—to the MountainCome, and disappear—Whose be Her Renown, or fading,Witness, is not here—While I state—the Solemn Petals,Far as North—and East,Far as South and West—expanding—Culminate—in Rest—And the Mountain to the EveningFit His…

And God, that he called his,Till, recently a rival ClaimDisturbed these amities.The property, my garden,Which having sown with care,He claims the pretty acre,And sends a Bailiff there.The station of the partiesForbids publicity,But Justice is sublimerThan arms, or pedigree.I’ll institute an ‘Action’—I’ll vindicate the law—Jove! Choose your counsel—I retain ‘Shaw’!