And all soft, helpless things;
Butterflies, those winged flowers.
Dainty humming-birds, jewels of the air,
Green beetles, with emerald backs ;
Coral lady-bugs, enameled with black spots,
Carefully touched by the artist ;
The pigeon's neck, the pheasant's breast;
The jay-bird's wing ; the blackbird's back ;
A baby's foot ; the shells which have caught the dyes of
the sunset ; Leaves, blossoms, flowers, clouds, skies, stars ; The illimitable sunrise and sunset, And. also, those illimitable jewels which The sparkling fingers of the Frost hang upon the wintry
boughs.
TRUTH: The Universe as much within a dew-drop As within the orbed stars.
POET:
Words cannot declare the beauty of the sky By day and by night,
Or the constellations which cover the night with their patterns.
TRUTH: Beneath them, man slays the soul of his brother. And strangles the babes in their cradles.
XVIII. POET:
The infinite Mystery has begotten us; indolently,
negligently. We are no more than the germ of the gnat or the beetle. With the moth and the fly we are equal, Man is but a part, yet unto himself he is the whole.
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