NATURE
Who’ll let me out some gala day,With implements to fly away, Passing pomposity?
XL
SHE sweeps with many-colored brooms,And leaves the shreds behind;Oh, housewife in the evening west,Come back, and dust the pond!
You dropped a purple ravelling in,You dropped an amber thread;And now you’ve littered all the EastWith duds of emerald!
And still she plies her spotted brooms,And still the aprons fly,Till brooms fade softly into stars —And then I come away.
XLI
LIKE mighty footlights burned the redAt bases of the trees, —The far theatricals of dayExhibiting to these.
’T was universe that did applaudWhile, chiefest of the crowd,Enabled by his royal dress,Myself distinguished God.
[101]
