1327

The Symptom of the Gale—
The Second of Dismay—
Between its Rumor and its Face—
Is almost Revelry—

The Houses firmer root—
The Heavens cannot be found—
The Upper Surfaces of things
Take covert in the Ground—

The Mem’ry of the Sun
Not Any can recall—
Although by Nature’s sterling Watch
So scant an interval—

And when the Noise is caught
And Nature looks around—
“We dreamed it”? She interrogates—
“Good Morning”—We propound?