| AFTER a long day of work in my hot-houses | |
| Sleep was sweet, but if you sleep on your left side | |
| Your dreams may be abruptly ended. | |
| I was among my flowers where some one | |
| Seemed to be raising them on trial, | 5 |
| As if after-while to be transplanted | |
| To a larger garden of freer air. | |
| And I was disembodied vision | |
| Amid a light, as it were the sun | |
| Had floated in and touched the roof of glass | 10 |
| Like a toy balloon and softly bursted, | |
| And etherealized in golden air. | |
| And all was silence, except the splendor | |
| Was immanent with thought as clear | |
| As a speaking voice, and I, as thought, | 15 |
| Could hear a Presence think as he walked | |
| Between the boxes pinching off leaves, | |
| Looking for bugs and noting values, | |
| With an eye that saw it all:— | |
| “Homer, oh yes! Pericles, good. | 20 |
| Cæsar Borgia, what shall be done with it? | |
| Dante, too much manure, perhaps. | |
| Napoleon, leave him awhile as yet. | |
| Shelley, more soil. Shakespeare, needs spraying—” | |
| Clouds, eh!— | 25 |
