With your great green-eyed windows, in boldness a host,
(The only green things which, indeed, you can boast,)
With your forehead as high, and as bare as the pate
Which an eagle once took for a stone or a slate,[339]
You lift yourself up, o’er the country afar,
As who would say, “Look at me!—here stands great R!”
I plant—I rear forest trees—shrubs great and small,
To wrap myself up in—you peer through them all!
With your lean scraggy neck o’er my poplars you rise;
You watch all my guests with your wide saucer eyes.