The moon is sinking — the tempestuous weather
Grows worse, the squalls disputing our advance;
And as the feet fall well and true together
In the last moonlight, see! the standards glance!

One hour, one moment, and that light for ever.
Quite so.

MANNIKINS , we command you.
Stand up with your white beautiful skulls.
Stand up with your moaning sockets.
Dance your stiff limping dances.
We handle you with spic and span gloves.
We tell you when and how

PEA pods cling to stems.
Neponset, the village,
Clings to the Burlington railway main line.
Terrible midnight limiteds roar through
Hauling sleepers to the Rockies and Sierras.
The earth is slightly shaken
And Neponset trembles slightly in its sleep.

THE river is gold under a sunset of Illinois.
It is a molten gold someone pours and changes.
A woman mixing a wedding cake of butter and eggs
Knows what the sunset is pouring on the river here.
The river twists in a letter S.
A gold S now speaks to the Illinois sky.

Cast a bronze of my head and legs and put them on the king's street.
Set the cast of me here alongside Carl XII, making two Carls for the Swedish people and the utlanders to look at between the palace and the Grand Hotel.
The summer sun will shine on both the Carls, and November drizzles wrap the two, one in tall leather boots, one in wool leggings.
Also I place it in the record: the Swedish people may name boats after me or change the name of a long street and give it one of my nick-names.

Man's life is but a working day
Whose tasks are set aright:
A time to work, a time to pray,
And then a quiet night.
And then, please God, a quiet night
Where palms are green and robes are white;
A long-drawn breath, a balm for sorrow,
And all things lovely on the morrow.

In English.

Cinna seems poor in show,
And he is so.

The shout of a King is among them. One day may I be
Of that perfect communion of lovers contented and free
In the land that is very far off, and far off from the sea.

The shout of the King is among them. One King and one song,
One thunder of manifold voices harmonious and strong,
One King and one love, and one shout of one worshipping throng.

In English.

Both lurks and shines hid in an Amber-tear
The Bee in her own Nectar prisoner;
So she who in her life time was contemn'd
Ev'n in her very funerals is gemm'd.

Englished.

Whilst in an Amber-shade the Ant doth feast
A gummy drop ensnares the small wild beast,
A full reward of all her toyls hath she,
'Tis to be thought she would her self so die.