---

Like mighty footlights burned the red

At bases of the trees,—

The far theartricals of day

Exhibiting to these.



’T was universe that did applaud

While, Chiefest of the crowd,

Enabled by his royal dress,

Myself distinguished God.

She sweeps with many-colored brooms,

And leaves the shreds behind;

Oh, housewife in the evening west,

Come back, and dust the pond!



You dropped a purple ravelling in,

You dropped an amber thread;

And now you ’ve littered all the East

With duds of emerald!



And still she plies her spotted brooms,

And still the aprons fly,

Till brooms fade softly into stars—

And then I come away.