[What, what? A curtain o'er the world at once! Crickets stop hissing; not a bird--or, yes, 285 There scuds His raven that has told Him all! It was fool's play, this prattling! Ha! The wind Shoulders the pillared dust, death's house o' the move, And fast invading fires begin! White blaze-- A tree's head snaps--and there, there, there, there, there, 290 His thunder follows! Fool to gibe at Him! Lo! 'Lieth flat and loveth Setebos! 'Maketh his teeth meet through his upper lip, Will let those quails fly, will not eat this month One little mess of whelks, so he may 'scape!] 295 MAY AND DEATH I wish that when you died last May, Charles, there had died along with you Three parts of spring's delightful things; Aye, and, for me, the fourth part, too. A foolish thought, and worse, perhaps! 5 There must be many a pair of friends Who, arm in arm, deserve the warm Moon-births and the long evening-ends. So, for their sake, be May still May! Let their new time, as mine of old, 10 Do all it did for me: I bid Sweet sights and sounds throng manifold. Only, one little sight, one plant, Woods have in May, that starts up green Save a sole streak which, so to speak, 15 Is spring's blood, spilt its leaves between-- That, they might spare; a certain wood Might miss the plant; their loss were small: But I--whene'er the leaf grows there, Its drop comes from my heart, that's all. 20 PROSPICE