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Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee—Of these no Elegy.Some things that stay there be—Grief—Hills—Eternity&mda sh;Nor this behooveth me.There are that resting, rise.Can I expound the skies?How still the Riddle lies!

Through it—compete with Death—The fellow cannot touch this Crown—By it—my title take—Ah, what a royal sakeTo my necessity—stooped down!No Wilderness—can beWhere this attendeth me—No Desert Noon—No fear of frost to comeHaunt the perennial bloom—But Certain June!Get Gabriel—to tell—the royal syllable—Get Saints—with new—unsteady tongue—To say what trance belowMost like their glory show—Fittest the Crown!

And there is another sunshine,Though it be darkness there;Never mind faded forests, Austin,Never mind silent fields—Here is a little forest,Whose leaf is ever green;Here is a brighter garden,Where not a frost has been;In its unfading flowersI hear the bright bee hum:Prithee, my brother,Into my garden come!

In their Chapeaux of fire,Martial as she!Like her the Evenings stealPurple and CochinealAfter the Day!‘Departed’—both— ;they say!i.e. gathered away,Not found,Argues the Aster still—Reasons the DaffodilProfound!

Existence—in itself—Without a further function—Omnipotence—Enough—To be alive—and Will!‘Tis able as a God—The Maker—of Ourselves—be what—Such being Finitude!

Velvet people from Vevay—Balles from some lost summer day—Bees exclusive Coterie—Paris could not lay the foldBelted down with Emerald—Venice could not show a checkOf a tint so lustrous meek—Never such an AmbuscadeAs of briar and leaf displayedFor my little damask maid—I had rather wear her graceThan an Earl’s distinguished face—I had rather dwell like herThan…