There's the Battle of Burgoyne —
Over, every Day,
By the Time that Man and Beast
Put their work away
"Sunset" sounds majestic —
But that solemn War
Could you comprehend it
You would chastened stare —
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These are the days that Reindeer love
And pranks the Northern star —
This is the Sun's objective,
And Finland of the Year. -
* * *
These are the Idiots chiefest artst
To blend & not define the Parts
The Swallow sings in Courts of Kings
That Fools have their high finishings
5And this the Princes golden rule
The...These are the Signs to Nature's Inns —
Her invitation broad
To Whosoever famishing
To taste her mystic Bread —
These are the rites of Nature's House —
The Hospitality
That opens with an equal width
To Beggar and to Bee
For Sureties of her staunch Estate
Her...These held their Wick above the West —
Till when the Red declined —
Or how the Amber aided it —
Defied to be defined —
Then waned without disparagement
In a dissembling Hue
That would not let the Eye decide
Did it abide or no —These tested Our Horizon —
Then disappeared
As Birds before achieving
A Latitude.
Our Retrospection of Them
A fixed Delight,
But our Anticipation
A Dice — a Doubt —These — saw Visions —
Latch them softly —
These — held Dimples —
Smooth them slow —
This — addressed departing accents —
Quick — Sweet Mouth — to miss thee so —
This — We stroked —
Unnumbered Satin —
These — we held among our own —
Fingers of the Slim Aurora —...They ask but our Delight —
The Darlings of the Soil
And grant us all their Countenance
For a penurious smile.They dropped like Flakes —
They dropped like Stars —
Like Petals from a Rose —
When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers — goes —
They perished in the Seamless Grass —
No eye could find the place —
But God can summon every face
Of his Repealless — List.They have a little Odor — that to me
Is metre — nay — 'tis melody —
And spiciest at fading — indicate —
A Habit — of a Laureate —