He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears;
Then humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of mystery over his head;
And the caterpillar and fly
Feed on the mystery.
And it bears the fruit of deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat;
And the raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade.
The gods of the earth and sea
Sought through Nature to find this tree;
But their search was all in vain.
There grows one in the human brain.
THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER.
A LITTLE black thing among the snow,
Crying, "'weep! 'weep!" in notes of woe.
Where are thy father and mother, say?
—They are both gone up to the church to pray.
Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smiled among the winter's snow,
They clothed me in the clothes of death.
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
