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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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