A Murmur In The Trees

A Soft Sea Washed Around The House A Sea Of Summer Air And Rose And Fell The Magic Planks That Sailed Without A Care — For Captain Was The Butterfly For Helmsman Was The Bee And An Entire Universe For The Delighted Crew.

I Never Saw A Moor, I Never Saw The Sea; Yet Know I How The Heather Looks, And What A Wave Must Be. I Never Spoke With God, Nor Visited In Heaven; Yet Certain Am I Of The Spot, As If A Chart Were Given.

I Do Not Know The Man So Bold He Dare In Lonely Place That Awful Stranger Consciousness Deliberately Face-.

The Soul Should Always Stand Ajar, That If The Heaven Inquire, He Will Not Be Obliged To Wait, Or Shy Of Troubling Her. Depart, Before The Host Has Slid The Bolt Upon The Door, To Seek For The Accomplished Guest, -- Her Visitor No More.

The Heart Asks Pleasure--first-- And Then--excuse From Pain