Being too full of sleep to understand

Nature

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

As a fond mother, when the day is o'er, 

   Leads by the hand her little child to bed, 

   Half willing, half reluctant to be led, 

   And leave his broken playthings on the floor, 

Still gazing at them through the open door, 

   Nor wholly reassured and comforted 

   By promises of others in their stead, 

   Which, though more splendid, may not please him more; 

So Nature deals with us, and takes away 

   Our playthings one by one, and by the hand 

   Leads us to rest so gently, that we go 

Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay, 

   Being too full of sleep to understand 

   How far the unknown transcends the what we know.

With rapid eyes like frightened beads

A Bird, came down the Walk - (359)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

A Bird, came down the Walk - 

He did not know I saw -

He bit an Angle Worm in halves

And ate the fellow, raw, 

 

And then, he drank a Dew

From a convenient Grass -

And then hopped sidewise to the Wall

To let a Beetle pass -

 

He glanced with rapid eyes,

That hurried all abroad -

They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,

He stirred his Velvet Head. - 

 

Like one in danger, Cautious,

I offered him a Crumb,

And he unrolled his feathers, 

And rowed him softer Home -

 

Than Oars divide the Ocean,

Too silver for a seam,

Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,

Leap, plashless as they swim. 

Fly, dragonfly! Fly!

Fly, Dragonfly!

BY JOYCE SIDMAN

Water nymph, you have

climbed from the shallows to don

your dragon-colors.

Perched on a reed stem

all night, shedding your skin, you dry

your wings in moonlight.

 

Night melts into day.

Swift birds wait to snap you up.

Fly, dragonfly! Fly!