The lonesome for they know not What –
The Eastern Exiles — be –
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday –

And ever since — the purple Moat
They strive to climb — in vain –
As Birds — that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain –

The Blessed Ether — taught them –
Some Transatlantic Morn –
When Heaven — was too common — to miss –
Too sure — to dote upon!

Over the fence –
Strawberries — grow –
Over the fence –
I could climb — if I tried, I know –
Berries are nice!

But — if I stained my Apron –
God would certainly scold!
Oh, dear, — I guess if He were a Boy –
He’d — climb — if He could!

What shall I do — it whimpers so –
This little Hound within the Heart
All day and night with bark and start –
And yet, it will not go –
Would you untie it, were you me –
Would it stop whining — if to Thee –
I sent it — even now?

It should not tease you –
By your chair — or, on the mat –
Or if it dare — to climb your dizzy knee –
Or — sometimes at your side to run –
When you were willing –
Shall it come?
Tell Carlo –
He’ll tell me!