IV
Day’s Parlor
The day came slow, till five o’clock,Then sprang before the hillsLike hindered rubies, or the lightA sudden musket spills.
The purple could not keep the east,The sunrise shook from fold,Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,The lady just unrolled.
The happy winds their timbrels took;The birds, in docile rows,Arranged themselves around their prince(The wind is prince of those).
The orchard sparkled like a Jew,—How mighty ‘t was, to stayA guest in this stupendous place,The parlor of the day!