Page:Poems, Emerson, 1847.djvu/104

92 In the fifth drop himself he flings,

And conscious Law is King of kings.

Pleaseth him, the Eternal Child,

To play his sweet will, glad and wild;

As the bee through the garden ranges,

From world to world the godhead changes;

As the sheep go feeding in the waste,

From form to form he maketh haste;

This vault which glows immense with light

Is the inn where he lodges for a night.

What recks such Traveller if the bowers

Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers

A bunch of fragrant lilies be,

Or the stars of eternity?

Alike to him the better, the worse,—

The glowing angel, the outcast corse.

Thou metest him by centuries,

And lo! he passes like the breeze;

Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy,

He hides in pure transparency;

Thou askest in fountains and in fires,

He is the essence that inquires.