Some rainbow coming from the fair !
Some vision of the world Cashmere
I confidently see !
Or else a peacock's purple train,
Feather by feather, on the plain
Fritters itself away !
The dreamy butterflies bestir,
Lethargic pools resume the whir
Of last year's sundered tune.
From some old fortress on the sun
Baronial bees march, one by one,
In murmuring platoon !
The robins stand as thick to-day
As flakes of snow stood yesterday,
On fence and roof and twig.
The orchis binds her feather on
For her old love, Don the Sun,
Revisiting the bog !
Without commander, countless, still,
The regiment of wood and hill
In bright detachment stand.
Behold ! Whose multitudes are these ?
The children of whose turbaned seas,
Or what Circassian land ?