That such an importunity
May not at last avail?
That, weary of this Beggar′s face –
They may not finally say, Yes –
To drive her from the Hall?
As if some little Arctic flower
Opon the polar hem –
Went wandering down the Latitudes
Until it puzzled came
To continents of summer –
To firmaments of sun –
To strange, bright crowds of flowers –
And birds, of foreign tongue!
I say, As if this little flower
To Eden, wandered in —
What then? Why nothing,
Only, your inference therefrom!