They are the vessel of the Thought.。，In Spring's fresh of morning: unseen
XI。，Frogging each mud-walled cot.
Fierier followed; followed Fire.。，
Soon at ripple about us, like rills。，Its Morrow no man's child; its Day
There plucked we the bluet, her hue。，Your brutish cry at muffled fate
Now ere the foreign singer thrills。，
We trod solid ground, we breathed air,。，Of aery tree-twigs over marge,
To some the clod, to some the wraith,。，Of their own force do they create;
Lightened, and high for zenith sped.。，A morning in the eyes of eve.
On the flame-shaped junipers green,。，That only leaflets dance.
In volumes of foliage proud,。，What busy bits of motioned wits
Like featherings hither and yon。，NATURE AND LIFE
Winning scents from unnumbered new births,。，The memories tenderly bound
Seas that have struck brave ships ashore, while through。，Through her Normandy, down where the mills
In oneness rise to quench the doubt.。，For fresh delight in confidence.
Unknown in nature. This they knew:。，
，Have left our heavens clear in pale,。，That he will come, who keeps in dry delay.