And why to me this, thou lame Lord of fire,
What had I done that might call on thine ire?
Or urge thy Greedie flame, thus to devoure
So many my Yeares-labours in an houre?
I ne're attempted, Vulcan , 'gainst thy life;
Nor made least line of love to thy loose Wife;
Or in remembrance of thy afront, and scorne
With Clownes, and Tradesmen, kept thee clos'd in horne.
'Twas Jupiter that hurl'd thee headlong downe,

And why not I, as hee
That 's greatest, if as free?
 (In sundry strains that strive,
Since there so many be)
 Th' old Lyrick kind revive?

I will, yea, and I may;
Who shall oppose my way?
 For what is he alone,
That of himselfe can say,
 Hee's Heire of Helicon ?

Apollo , and the Nine,
Forbid no Man their Shrine,
 That commeth with hands pure;
Else be they so divine,
 They will not him indure.

For they be such coy Things,
That they care not for Kings,
 And dare let them know it;

And why does Gratt teach English? Why, because
A law school felt he could not learn the laws.
“Hamlet,” he tells his students, “you will find,
Concerns a man who can't make up his mind.
The Tempest? . . . um . . . the one with Ariel! . . .
Are there more questions now?” But one can tell
That all his will, brains, and imagination
Are concentrated on a higher station:
He wants to be in the Administration.
Sometimes at parties he observes the Dean;
He giggles, coughs, and turns aquamarine.
Yet some day we will hear of “Mr. Gratt,

And who shall separate the dust
What later we shall be:
Whose keen discerning eye will scan
And solve the mystery?

The high, the low, the rich, the poor,
The black, the white, the red,
And all the chromatique between,
Of whom shall it be said:

Here lies the dust of Africa;
Here are the sons of Rome;
Here lies the one unlabelled,
The world at large his home!

Can one then separate the dust?
Will mankind lie apart,
When life has settled back again
The same as from the start?

And who has seen the moon, who has not seen
Her rise from out the chamber of the deep
Flushed and grand and naked, as from the chamber
Of finished bridegroom, seen her rise and throw
Confession of delight upon the wave,
Littering the waves with her own superscription
Of bliss, till all her lambent beauty shakes toward us
Spread out and known at last: and we are sure
That beauty is a thing beyond the grave,
That perfect, bright experience never falls
To nothingness, and time will dim the moon
Sooner than our full consummation here

And when the sun puts out his lamp
We'll sleep serene within the camp,
Trusting to his invet'rate skill
Who leads the stars oer yonder hill,
Whose discipline doth never cease
To watch the slumberings of peace,
And from the virtuous hold afar
The melancholy din of war. —
For ye our sentries still outlie,
The earth your pallet and your screen the sky.

From steadfastness I will not swerve
Remembering my sweet reserve.

With all your kindness shown from year to year
Ye do but civil demons still appear,
Still to my mind

And when the rain had gone away
And it was shining everywhere,
I ran out on the walk to play
And found a little bug was there.

And he was running just as fast
As any little bug could run,
Until he stopped for breath at last,
All black and shiny in the sun.

And then he chirped a song to me
And gave his wings a little tug,
And that's the way he showed that he
Was very glad to be a bug!

And what a charm is in the rich hot scent
Of old fir forests heated by the sun,
Where drops of resin down the rough bark run,
And needle litter breathes its wonderment.

The old fir forests heated by the sun,
Their thought shall linger like the lingering scent,
Their beauty haunt us, and a wonderment
Of moss, of fern, of cones, of rills that run.

The needle litter breathes a wonderment;
The crimson crans are sparkling in the sun;
From tree to tree the scampering squirrels run;
The hum of insects blends with heat and scent.

And wasna he a roguey,
A roguey, a roguey,
And wasna he a roguey,
The piper o' Dundee?
The piper came to our town,
To our town, to our town,
The piper came to our town,
And he played bonnilie.
He played a spring the laird to please,
A spring brent new frae yont the seas;

And truly it is a most glorious thing
Thus to hear men pray, and God's praises sing.
O how great comfort is it now to see
The churches to enjoy full liberty,
And to have the gospel preached here with power,
And such wolves repelled as [all] would else devour.

But God will still for his people provide
Such as be able them to help and guide,
If they cleave to him and do not forsake
His laws and truth and their own ways do take.
If thou hast viewed the camp of Israel,
How God in the wilderness with them did dwell.