Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee—
Nay—Nature is Heaven—
Nature is what we hear—
The Bobolink—the Sea—
Thunder—the Cricket—
Nay—Nature is Harmony—
Nature is what we know—
Yet have no art to say—
So impotent Our Wisdom is
To her Simplicity.
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‘Twould supersede the Heaven—A few—and they by Risk—procure—So this Sort—are not given—Except as stimulants—inCases of Despair—Or Stupor—The Reserve—These Heavenly Moments are—A Grant of the Divine—That Certain as it Comes—Withdraws—and leaves the dazzled SoulIn her unfurnished Rooms
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