Dreams are the subtle Dower
That make us rich an Hour --
Then fling us poor
Out of the purple Door
Into the Precinct raw
Possessed before --

Forbidden Fruit a flavor has
That lawful Orchards mocks --
How luscious lies within the Pod
The Pea that Duty locks --

His Heart was darker than the starless night
For that there is a morn
But in this black Receptacle
Can be no Bode of Dawn

His Mansion in the Pool
The Frog forsakes --
He rises on a Log
And statements makes --
His Auditors two Worlds
Deducting me --
The Orator of April
Is hoarse Today --
His Mittens at his Feet
No Hand hath he --
His eloquence a Bubble
As Fame should be --
Applaud him to discover
To your chagrin
Demosthenes has vanished
In Waters Green --

How much the present moment means
To those who've nothing more --
The Fop -- the Carp -- the Atheist --
Stake an entire store
Upon a Moment's shallow Rim
While their commuted Feet
The Torrents of Eternity
Do all but inundate --

I suppose the time will come
Aid it in the coming
When the Bird will crowd the Tree
And the Bee be booming.

I suppose the time will come
Hinder it a little
When the Corn in Silk will dress
And in Chintz the Apple

I believe the Day will be
When the Jay will giggle
At his new white House the Earth
That, too, halt a little --

In many and reportless places
We feel a Joy --
Reportless, also, but sincere as Nature
Or Deity --

It comes, without a consternation --
Dissolves -- the same --
But leaves a sumptuous Destitution --
Without a Name --

Profane it by a search -- we cannot
It has no home --
Nor we who having once inhaled it --
Thereafter roam.

Long Years apart -- can make no
Breach a second cannot fill --
The absence of the Witch does not
Invalidate the spell --

The embers of a Thousand Years
Uncovered by the Hand
That fondled them when they were Fire
Will stir and understand --

Praise it -- 'tis dead --
It cannot glow --
Warm this inclement Ear
With the encomium it earned
Since it was gathered here --
Invest this alabaster Zest
In the Delights of Dust --
Remitted -- since it flitted it
In recusance august.

"Secrets" is a daily word
Yet does not exist --
Muffled -- it remits surmise --
Murmured -- it has ceased --
Dungeoned in the Human Breast
Doubtless secrets lie --
But that Grate inviolate --
Goes nor comes away
Nothing with a Tongue or Ear --
Secrets stapled there
Will emerge but once -- and dumb --
To the Sepulchre --

Summer -- we all have seen --
A few of us -- believed --
A few -- the more aspiring
Unquestionably loved --

But Summer does not care --
She goes her spacious way
As eligible as the moon
To our Temerity --

The Doom to be adored --
The Affluence conferred --
Unknown as to an Ecstasy
The Embryo endowed --

The Butterfly's Numidian Gown
With spots of Burnish roasted on
Is proof against the Sun
Yet prone to shut its spotted Fan
And panting on a Clover lean
As if it were undone --

Those cattle smaller than a Bee
That herd upon the eye --
Whose tillage is the passing Crumb --
Those Cattle are the Fly --
Of Barns for Winter -- blameless --
Extemporaneous stalls
They found to our objection --
On eligible walls --
Reserving the presumption
To suddenly descend
And gallop on the Furniture --
Or odiouser offend --
Of their peculiar calling
Unqualified to judge
To Nature we remand them
To justify or scourge --