XLVII

BLOOM upon the Mountain, stated,

Blameless of a name.

Efflorescence of a Sunset—

Reproduced, the same.

Seed, had I, my purple sowing

Should endow the Day,

Not a tropic of the twilight

Show itself away.

Who for tilling, to the Mountain

Come, and disappear—

Whose be Her renown, or fading,

Witness, is not here.

While I state—the solemn petals

Far as North and East,

Far as South and West expanding,

Culminate in rest.

And the Mountain to the Evening

Fit His countenance,

Indicating by no muscle

The Experience.