Delight is as the flight— Or in the Ratio of it, As the Schools would say— The Rainbow’s way— A Skein Flung colored, after Rain, Would suit as bright, Except that flight Were Aliment—
“If it would last” I asked the East, When that Bent Stripe Struck up my childish Firmament— And I, for glee, Took Rainbows, as the common way, And empty Skies The Eccentricity—
And so with Lives— And so with Butterflies— Seen magic—through the fright That they will cheat the sight— And Dower latitudes far on— Some sudden morn— Our portion—in the fashion— Done—
