The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,

698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—

Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling

600 It troubled me as once I was— For I was once a Child— Concluding how an Atom—fell— And yet the Heavens—held—

300 ‘Morning’—means 'Milking’—to the… Dawn’—to the Teneriffe’— Dice’—to the Maid’— Morning means just Risk’—to the L…

550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then

To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings, Or Love’s convenient things,

’Twas Crisis—All the length had p… That dull—benumbing time There is in Fever or Event— And now the Chance had come— The instant holding in its claw