By anonymous

446
Hound cannot overtake the hare
That fluttered panting here —
Nor any school-boy rob the nest
Tenderness builded there.

CXIV
SHE’S happy, with a new content
That feels to her like Sacrament.
She’s busy, with an altered care,
As just apprenticed to the Air.

She’s tearful, if she weep at all,
For blissful causes, — most of all
That Heaven permit so meek as she
To such a Fate to minister.

CXV
SHE staked her feathers, gained an arc,
Debated, rose again, —
This time beyond the inference
Of Envy — or of Men.

And now among circumference
Her steady boat be seen —
At ease among the billows
As the bough where she was born.

CXVI
THE morning after woe,
‘Tis frequently the way,
Surpasses all that rose before
For utter jubilee;