Fr895A


Further in Summer than
the Birds –
Pathetic from the
Grass –
A Minor Nation
celebrates
It′s unobtrusive Mass –

No Ordinance be seen –
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it
becomes –
Enlarging Loneliness –

′Tis Audiblest, at Dusk –

¦

When Day′s attempt
is done –
And Nature nothing
waits to do
But terminate in Tune –

Nor difference it knows
Of Cadence, or of
Pause –
But simultaneous as
Same –
The Service emphacize –

Nor know I when it
cease –

¦

At Candles, it is here –
When Sunrise is – that
it is not –
Than this, I know
no more –

The Earth has many
keys –
Where Melody is not
Is the Unknown
Peninsula –
Beauty – is Nature’s
Fact –

But Witness for Her

¦

Land –
And Witness for Her
Sea –
The Cricket is Her
utmost
Of Elegy, to Me –

 

Emily –