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| LITTLE thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown | |
| Of thee from the hill-top looking down; | |
| The heifer that lows in the upland farm, | |
| Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; | |
| The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, | 5 |
| Deems not that great Napoleon | |
| Stops his horse, and lists with delight, | |
| Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; | |
| Nor knowest thou what argument | |
| Thy life to thy neighbors creed has lent. | 10 |
| All are needed by each one; | |
| Nothing is fair or good alone. | |
| I thought the sparrows note from heaven, | |
| Singing at dawn on the alder bough; | |
| I brought him home, in his nest, at even; | 15 |
| He sings the song, but it cheers not now, | |
| For I did not bring home the river and sky; | |
| He sang to my ear,they sang to my eye. | |
| The delicate shells lay on the shore; | |
| The bubbles of the latest wave | 20 |
| Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, | |
| And the bellowing of the savage sea | |
| Greeted their safe escape to me. | |
| I wiped away the weeds and foam, | |
| I fetched my sea-born treasures home; | 25 |
| But the poor, unsightly, noisome things | |
| Had left their beauty on the shore | |
| With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. | |
| The lover watched his graceful maid, | |
| As mid the virgin train she strayed, | 30 |
| Nor knew her beautys best attire | |
| Was woven still by the snow-white choir. | |
| At last she came to his hermitage, | |
| Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage; | |
| The gay enchantment was undone, | 35 |
| A gentle wife, but fairy none. | |
| Then I said, I covet truth; | |
| Beauty is unripe childhoods cheat; | |
| I leave it behind with the games of youth: | |
| As I spoke, beneath my feet | 40 |
| The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, | |
| Running over the club-moss burrs; | |
| I inhaled the violet s breath; | |
| Around me stood the oaks and firs; | |
| Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground; | 45 |
| Over me soared the eternal sky, | |
| Full of light and of deity; | |
| Again I saw, again I heard, | |
| The rolling river, the morning bird; | |
| Beauty through my senses stole; | 50 |
| I yielded myself to the perfect whole. | |
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