I feel as if the grass were pleased To have it intermit; The surreptitious scion Of summer's circumspect. Had nature any outcast face, Could she a son contemn, Had nature an Iscariot, That mushroom, it is him. XXVI. THE STORM. There came a wind like a bugle; It quivered through the grass, And a green chill upon the heat So ominous did pass We barred the windows and the doors As from an emerald ghost; The doom's electric moccason That very instant passed. On a strange mob of panting trees, And fences ed away, And rivers where the houses ran The living looked that day. The bell within the steeple wild The ying tidings whirled. How much can come And much can go, And yet abide the world! XXVII. THE SPIDER. A spider sewed at night Without a light Upon an arc of white. If ruff it was of dame Or shroud of gnome, Himself, himself inform. Of immortality His strategy Was physiognomy. XXVIII.

I know a place where summer strives With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies back, Recording briey, "Lost." But when the south wind stirs the pools And struggles in the lanes, Her heart misgives her for her vow, And she pours soft refrains Into the lap of adamant, And spices, and the dew, That stiffens quietly to quartz, Upon her amber shoe. XXIX. The one that could repeat the summer day Were greater than itself, though he Minutest of mankind might be. And who could reproduce the sun, At period of going down The lingering and the stain, I mean When Orient has been outgrown, And Occident becomes unknown, His name remain. XXX. THE WIND'S VISIT. The wind tapped like a tired man, And like a host, "Come in," I boldly answered; entered then My residence within A rapid, footless guest, To offer whom a chair Were as impossible as hand A sofa to the air. No bone had he to bind him,

His speech was like the push Of numerous humming-birds at once From a superior bush. His countenance a billow, His ngers, if he pass, Let go a music, as of tunes Blown tremulous in glass. He visited, still itting; Then, like a timid man, Again he tapped 't was urriedly And I became alone. XXXI. Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets, Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman, Yellow she affords Only scantly and selectly, Like a lover's words. XXXII. GOSSIP. The leaves, like women, interchange Sagacious condence; Somewhat of nods, and somewhat of Portentous inference,

The parties in both cases Enjoining secrecy, Inviolable compact To notoriety. XXXIII. SIMPLICITY. How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And does n't care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fullling absolute decree In casual simplicity. XXXIV. STORM. It sounded as if the streets were running, And then the streets stood still. Eclipse was all we could see at the window, And awe was all we could feel. By and by the boldest stole out of his covert, To see if time was there. Nature was in her beryl apron, Mixing fresher air. XXXV. THE RAT. The rat is the concisest tenant. He pays no rent, Repudiates the obligation, On schemes intent. Balking our wit To sound or circumvent, Hate cannot harm A foe so reticent. Neither decree