308

I send Two Sunsets—

Day and I—in competition ran—
I finished Two—and several Stars—
While He—was making One—

His own was ampler—but as I

Was saying to a friend—
Mine—is the more convenient
To Carry in the Hand—

1302

I think that the Root of the Wind is Water —

It would not sound so deep
Were it a Firmamental Product —
Airs no Oceans keep —
Mediterranean intonations —
To a Current's Ear —
There is a maritime conviction
In the Atmosphere —

1173

The Lightning is a yellow Fork

From Tables in the sky
By inadvertent fingers dropt
The awful Cutlery

Of mansions never quite disclosed

And never quite concealed
The Apparatus of the Dark
To ignorance revealed.

1127

Soft as the massacre of Suns

By Evening's Sabres slain