Measure what space a violet stands above the ground,
'Tis no farther climbing that my soul and angels have to do than that."
[Written on the fly-leaf of
Emerson's "Representative
Men," between 1874 and
1879]
While I lie here under the tree,
Comes a strange insect and poises an instant at my cheek,
And lays his antennæ there upon my skin,
Then perceiving that I have nothing of nutriment for him,