595

To live so small as I—And yet I was a living Child—With Food’s necessityUpon me—like a Claw—I could no more removeThan I could coax a Leech away—Or make a Dragon—move—Not like the Gnat—had I—The privilege to flyAnd seek a Dinner for myself—How mightier He—than I—Nor like Himself—the ArtUpon the Window PaneTo gad my little Being…

To see if it was there—I held my spirit to the Glass,To prove it possibler—I turned my Being round and roundAnd paused at every poundTo ask the Owner’s name—For doubt, that I should know the Sound—I judged my features—jarred my hair—I pushed my dimples by, and waited—If they—twinkled back—Conviction might, of me—I told myself, ‘Take…

Were Universe—one Rock—And fr I heard his silver CallThe other side the Block—I’d tunnel—till my GroovePushed sudden thro’ to his—Then my face take her Recompense—The looking in his Eyes—But ’tis a single Hair—A filament—a law—A Cobweb—wove in Adamant—A Battlement—of Straw—A limit like the VeilUnto the Lady’s face—But every Mesh—a Citadel—And Dragons—in the Crease—

Though no appearance indicate‘Tis threaded in the AirAnd though it do not wearAs if it never Tore‘Tis very comfortable indeedAnd spacious as before

Of unsuspended Suns—Adds poignancy to Winter—The Shivering Fancy turnsTo a fictitious CountryTo palliate a Cold—Not obviated of Degree—Nor erased—of Latitude—

Day and I—in competition ran—I finished Two—and several Stars—While He—was making One—His own was ampler—but as IWas saying to a friend—Mine—is the more convenientTo Carry in the Hand—