University of Virginia Library

184   I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-     work of the stars,
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of      sand, and the egg of the wren,
And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre for the highest,
And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors      of heaven,
And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all      machinery,
And the cow crunching with depres't head surpasses      any statue,
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions      of infidels,
And I could come every afternoon of my life to look      at the farmer's girl boiling her iron ten-kettle      and baking short-cake.
185  I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss,      fruits, grains, esculent roots,
And am stuccoed with quadrupeds and birds all over,
And have distanced what is behind me for good      reasons,
And call anything close again, when I desire it.
186  In vain the speeding or shyness;
In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against      my approach;
In vain the mastadon retreats beneath its own pow-     der'd bones;
In vain objects stand leagues off, and assume manifold      shapes;
In vain the ocean settling in hollows, and the great      monsters lying low;
In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky;
In vain the snake slides through the creepers and      logs;
In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods;
In vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador;
I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of      the cliff.