There is a morn by men unseen —

Whose maids upon remoter green

Keep their Seraphic May —

And all day long, with dance and game,

And gambol I may never name —

Employ their holiday.


Here to light measure, move the feet

Which walk no more the village street —

Nor by the wood...

There is a Shame of Nobleness —

Confronting Sudden Pelf —

A finer Shame of Ecstasy —

Convicted of Itself —


A best Disgrace — a Brave Man feels —

Acknowledged — of the Brave —

One More — "Ye Blessed" — to be told —

But that's — Behind the Grave —

There is an arid Pleasure —

As different from Joy —

As Frost is different from Dew —

Like element — are they —


Yet one — rejoices Flowers —

And one — the Flowers abhor —

The finest Honey — curdled —

Is worthless — to the Bee —

There is no Silence in the Earth — so silent

As that endured

Which uttered, would discourage Nature

And haunt the World.