I’m saying every day
“If I should be a Queen, tomorrow
I’d do this way —
And so I deck, a little,
If it be, I wake a Bourbon,

A DROP fell on the apple tree
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.
A few went out to help the brook,

A slash of Blue—
A sweep of Gray—
Some scarlet patches on the way,
Compose an Evening Sky—
A little purple—slipped between—

161
A feather from the Whippoorwill
That everlasting—sings!
Whose galleries—are Sunrise—
Whose Opera—the Springs—

742
Four Trees’—upon a solitary Acre’
Without Design
Or Order, or Apparent Action’—
Maintain’—

668
“Nature” is what we see—
The Hill—the Afternoon—
Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee—
Nay—Nature is Heaven—

I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –
Of Chambers as the Cedars –

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I know lives, I could miss
Without a Misery—
Others—whose instant’s wanting—
Would be Eternity—

Between My Country’—and the Othe
There is a Sea’—
But Flowers’—negotiate between us
As Ministry.

These Fevered Days - to take the
Where Waters cool around the moss
And shade is all that devastates t
Seems it sometimes this would be a