Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/142

106 He is versed in occult science,

In magic and in clairvoyance,

Oft he keeps his fine ear strained,

And Reason on her tiptoe pained

For aëry intelligence,

And for strange coincidence.

But it touches his quick heart

When Fate by omens takes his part,

And chance-dropped hints from Nature's sphere

Deeply soothe his anxious ear.

Heralds high before him run;

He has ushers many a one;

He spreads his welcome where he goes,

And touches all things with his rose.

All things wait for and divine him,—

How shall I dare to malign him,

Or accuse the god of sport?

I must end my true report,

Painting him from head to foot,

In as far as I took note,

Trusting well the matchless power

Of this young-eyed emperor

Will clear his fame from every cloud

With the bards and with the crowd.

He is wilful, mutable,

Shy, untamed, inscrutable,

Swifter-fashioned than the fairies,