Some things that fly there be --
Birds -- Hours -- the Bumblebee --
Of these no Elegy.

Some things that stay there be --
Grief -- Hills -- Eternity --
Nor this behooveth me.

There are that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the Riddle lies!

Within my reach!
I could have touched!
I might have chanced that way!
Soft sauntered thro' the village --
Sauntered as soft away!
So unsuspected Violets
Within the meadows go --
Too late for striving fingers
That passed, an hour ago!

So bashful when I spied her!
So pretty -- so ashamed!
So hidden in her leaflets
Lest anybody find --

So breathless till I passed here --
So helpless when I turned
And bore her struggling, blushing,
Her simple haunts beyond!

For whom I robbed the Dingle --
For whom I betrayed the Dell --
Many, will doubtless ask me,
But I shall never tell!

My friend must be a Bird --
Because it flies!
Mortal, my friend must be,
Because it dies!
Barbs has it, like a Bee!
Ah, curious friend!
Thou puzzlest me!

Went up a year this evening!
I recollect it well!
Amid no bells nor bravoes
The bystanders will tell!
Cheerful -- as to the village --
Tranquil -- as to repose --
Chastened -- as to the Chapel
This humble Tourist rose!
Did not talk of returning!
Alluded to no time
When, were the gales propitious --
We might look for him!
Was grateful for the Roses
In life's diverse bouquet --
Talked softly of new species
To pick another day;
Beguiling thus the wonder
The wondrous nearer drew --
Hands bustled at the moorings --
The crown respectful grew --
Ascended from our vision
To Countenances new!
A Difference -- A Daisy --
Is all the rest I knew!

Angels, in the early morning
May be seen the Dews among,
Stooping -- plucking -- smiling -- flying --
Do the Buds to them belong?

Angels, when the sun is hottest
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping -- plucking -- sighing -- flying --
Parched the flowers they bear along.

My nosegays are for Captives --
Dim -- expectant eyes,
Fingers denied the plucking,
Patient till Paradise.

To such, if they should whisper
Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand,
And I, no other prayer.

Sexton! My Master's sleeping here.
Pray lead me to his bed!
I came to build the Bird's nest,
And sow the Early seed --

That when the snow creeps slowly
From off his chamber door --
Daisies point the way there --
And the Troubadour.

The rainbow never tells me
That gust and storm are by,
Yet is she more convincing
Than Philosophy.

My flowers turn from Forums --
Yet eloquent declare
What Cato couldn't prove me
Except the birds were here!

One dignity delays for all --
One mitred Afternoon --
None can avoid this purple --
None evade this Crown!

Coach, it insures, and footmen --
Chamber, and state, and throng --
Bells, also, in the village
As we ride grand along!

What dignified Attendants!
What service when we pause!
How loyally at parting
Their hundred hats they raise!

Her pomp surpassing ermine
When simple You, and I,
Present our meek escutcheon
And claim the rank to die!

New feet within my garden go --
New fingers stir the sod --
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.

New children play upon the green --
New Weary sleep below --
And still the pensive Spring returns --
And still the punctual snow!