A MORNING WALK IN JUNE.
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From oat my path; thou strange slow-moving thing,
Securely hid from the devouring hawk,
Who sails above on broad and venturous wing,
Thou shalt be my companion in my walk,
And I will hold with thee some curious talk
About thyself, thy structure, coiled and small;
Why thou art found alike on beetling rock,
In the low vale, or by the waterfall,—
Why thou wast made thus strange, why thou wast made at all.
Securely hid from the devouring hawk,
Who sails above on broad and venturous wing,
Thou shalt be my companion in my walk,
And I will hold with thee some curious talk
About thyself, thy structure, coiled and small;
Why thou art found alike on beetling rock,
In the low vale, or by the waterfall,—
Why thou wast made thus strange, why thou wast made at all.
If for some great and unrepented sin,
An angel were condemned in this low guise
To wander through the world, an humbled thing,
Creeping on earth, who mounted once the skies,
Fluttering his wings in gales of paradise,—
Methinks the punishment were surely great,
Enough for any crime. Thy hornèd eyes
Thou, melancholy thing! raisest elate,
As if thou wast indeed once of a high estate.
An angel were condemned in this low guise
To wander through the world, an humbled thing,
Creeping on earth, who mounted once the skies,
Fluttering his wings in gales of paradise,—
Methinks the punishment were surely great,
Enough for any crime. Thy hornèd eyes
Thou, melancholy thing! raisest elate,
As if thou wast indeed once of a high estate.
Even such is man!—When at the lowest ebb
Of fallen fortune, and a ruined name,
Even when he's most entangled in the web
Of dark dishonor, obloquy and shame,
Of fallen fortune, and a ruined name,
Even when he's most entangled in the web
Of dark dishonor, obloquy and shame,
