fool
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The first Day’s Night had come –
And grateful that a thing
So terrible — had been endured –
I told my Soul to sing –
She said her Strings were snapt –
Her Bow — to Atoms blown –
And so to mend her — gave me work
Until another Morn –
And then — a Day as huge
As Yesterdays in pairs,
Unrolled its horror in my face –
Until it blocked my eyes –
My Brain — begun to laugh –
I mumbled — like a fool –
And tho’ ’tis Years ago — that Day –
My Brain keeps giggling — still.
And Something’s odd — within –
That person that I was –
And this One — do not feel the same –
Could it be Madness — this?
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The Wind didn’t come from the Orchard — today –
Further than that –
Nor stop to play with the Hay –
Nor joggle a Hat –
He’s a transitive fellow — very –
Rely on that –
If He leave a Bur at the door
We know He has climbed a Fir –
But the Fir is Where — Declare –
Were you ever there?
If He brings Odors of Clovers –
And that is His business — not Ours –
Then He has been with the Mowers –
Whetting away the Hours
To sweet pauses of Hay –
His Way — of a June Day –
If He fling Sand, and Pebble –
Little Boys Hats — and Stubble –
With an occasional Steeple –
And a hoarse “Get out of the way, I say,”
Who’d be the fool to stay?
Would you — Say –
Would you be the fool to stay?
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