HYMN.
Above from plaster-mountains,
Wine-shadowed by the sea,
Spurt white-wool clouds, as fountains
Whirl from a rockery.
These clouds were surely given
To keep the hills from harm,
For when a cloud is riven
The fatted rain falls warm.
Through porous leaves the sun drops
Each dripping stalactite
Of green. The chiselled tree-tops
Seem cut from malachite.
Stiff leaves with ragged edges
(Each one a wooden sword)
Are carved to prickly hedges,
On which, with one accord,
Their clock-work songs of calf-love
Stout birds stop to recite,
From cages which the sun wove
Of shade and latticed light.
Each brittle booth and joy-store
Shines brightly. Below these
The ocean at a toy shore
Yaps like a Pekinese.
II.
NURSERY RHYME.
The dusky king of Malabar
Is chief of Eastern Potentates;
Yet he wears no clothes except
The jewels that decency dictates.