This page has been validated.
144 POEMS.
XXV.
THE MUSHROOM.
THE mushroom is the elf of plants,
At evening it is not;
At morning in a truffled hut
It stops upon a spot
As if it tarried always;
And yet its whole career.
Is shorter than a snake's delay,
And fleeter than a tare.
'T is vegetation's juggler,
The germ of alibi;
Doth like a bubble antedate,
And like a bubble hie.
