Some keep the Sabbath in surplice; I just wear my wings, And instead of tolling the bell for church, Our little sexton sings.
God preaches, -- a noted clergyman, -- And the sermon is never long; So instead of getting to heaven at last, I'm going all along!
The bee is not afraid of me, I know the butterfly; The pretty people in the woods Receive me cordially.
The brooks laugh louder when I come, The breezes madder play. Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists? Wherefore, O summer's day?
Some rainbow coming from the fair! Some vision of the world Cashmere I confidently see! Or else a peacock's purple train, Feather by feather, on the plain Fritters itself away!
The dreamy butterflies bestir, Lethargic pools resume the whir Of last year's sundered tune. From some old fortress on the sun Baronial bees march, one by one, In murmuring platoon!
The robins stand as thick to-day As flakes of snow stood yesterday, On fence and roof and twig. The orchis binds her feather on For her old lover, Don the Sun, Revisiting the bog!
Without commander, countless, still, The regiment of wood and hill In bright detachment stand. Behold! Whose multitudes are these? The children of whose turbaned seas, Or what Circassian land?
The grass so little has to do, -- A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
And stir all day to pretty tunes The breezes fetch along, And hold the sunshine in its lap And bow to everything;
And thread the dews all night, like pearls, And make itself so fine, -- A duchess were too common For such a noticing.
And even when it dies, to pass In odors so divine, As lowly spices gone to sleep, Or amulets of pine.
And then to dwell in sovereign barns, And dream the days away, -- The grass so little has to do, I wish I were the hay!
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
If town it have, beyond itself, 'T is that I cannot say; I only sigh, -- no vehicle Bears me along that way.
A drop fell on the apple tree, Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh.
A few went out to help the brook, That went to help the sea. Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, What necklaces could be!