“Everything is part of me, Firmament and moving sea; I of all that is am part, Stone and star and human heart. “Primal Cause etern, self-wrought, Majesty transcending thought, This my substance and my soul, Origin, desire, and goal. “Through creation’s vasty range Blows the winter blast of change; Leaf-like from the Life-Tree whirled World shall rot on ruined world. “Hail, inexorable hour Fraught with clysmian wrack and stour Welcome, transmutation’s course And the cosmic rage of Force. “Yond the atomed universe Now we gather, now disperse,-- Unto darkling chaos tost, Back from the chaos--nothing lost. “Forth abysmal voids of death Resurrection issueth:-- Flaming ether, quickened clod, Bodying new forms of God. “Harken, Moon!--When I am gone, I, re-born, shall burgeon on; Out thine ashes shall arise Other Thou, to ride the skies.” Spake no more the hoary oak; No response the wan moon spoke; But the poet who had heard Pondered the Dodonian word. A DIAMOND. Upon the breast of senseless earth This precious sparkling stone, A jewel of Golconda’s worth, In sovran beauty shone. My lady for a moment bore The gem upon her brow, A moment on her bosom wore:-- ’Tis worth the Orient now. MY CATBIRD. A CAPRICCIO. Nightingale I never heard, Nor the skylark, poet’s bird; But there is an æther-winger So surpasses every singer, (Though unknown to lyric fame,) That at morning, or at nooning, When I hear his pipe a-tuning, Down I fling Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth,-- What are all their songs of birds worth? All their soaring Souls’ outpouring? When my Mimus Carolinensis, (That’s his Latin name,) When my warbler wild commences Song’s hilarious rhapsody, Just to please himself and me! Primo Cantante! Scherzo! Andante! Piano, pianissimo! Presto, prestissimo! Hark! are there nine birds or ninety and nine? And now a miraculous gurgling gushes Like nectar from Hebe’s Olympian bottle, The laughter of tune from a rapturous throttle! Such melody must be a hermit-thrush’s! But that other caroler, nearer, Outrivaling rivalry with clearer Sweetness incredibly fine! Is it oriole, redbird, or bluebird, Or some strange, un-Auduboned new bird? All one, sir, both this bird and that bird, The whole flight are all the same catbird! The whole visible and invisible choir you see On one lithe twig of yon green tree. Flitting, feathery Blondel! Listen to his rondel! To his lay romantical! To his sacred canticle! Hear him lilting, See him tilting His saucy head and tail, and fluttering While uttering All the difficult operas under the sun Just for fun; Or in tipsy revelry, Or at love devilry,