THOUGHT
There's a speck on the calm of that beautiful space,
'Way above the great arch, a small blot I can trace.
I must tear it away, or I may not know peace.
Such a mar to fair scenery, indeed that must cease.
Ah, What! Is this speck such a beautiful tree,
With glorious leaves, and blossoms so free!
Great wonderful branches' full grace I can see.
Large white bowls are the blossoms, with light and dark green—
Leaves,—all shining out large, and with fine glossy sheen.
Perched high in the air, with throat swollen in song,
Feathers trembling in rapture, his joy quivering long,
Such a dear little bird, scarlet bright, within sight,
Singing head upward to the sky, blue and so white.
'Way above the great arch, a small blot I can trace.
I must tear it away, or I may not know peace.
Such a mar to fair scenery, indeed that must cease.
Ah, What! Is this speck such a beautiful tree,
With glorious leaves, and blossoms so free!
Great wonderful branches' full grace I can see.
Large white bowls are the blossoms, with light and dark green—
Leaves,—all shining out large, and with fine glossy sheen.
Perched high in the air, with throat swollen in song,
Feathers trembling in rapture, his joy quivering long,
Such a dear little bird, scarlet bright, within sight,
Singing head upward to the sky, blue and so white.
Climbing to the full top of a mountain so high,
Looking down with delight,—and pray what did I spy?
Splendid bird, very huge, poised there ready for flight,
Looking down with delight,—and pray what did I spy?
Splendid bird, very huge, poised there ready for flight,
[63]
