Page:May-day and other pieces, Emerson, 1867.djvu/34

22 And those eternal forms,

Unhurt by a thousand storms,

Shot up to the height of the sky again,

And danced as merrily as young men.

I saw them mask their awful glance

Sidewise meek in gossamer lids;

And to speak my thought if none forbids,

It was as if the eternal gods,

Tired of their starry periods,

Hid their majesty in cloth

Woven of tulips and painted moth.

On carpets green the maskers march

Below May's well-appointed arch,

Each star, each god, each grace amain,

Every joy and virtue speed,

Marching duly in her train,

And fainting Nature at her need

Is made whole again.