Apple-green west and an orange bar,
And the crystal eye of a lone, one star . . .
And, “Child, take the shears and cut what you will,
Frost to-night-so clear and dead-still.” ...
None who saw it ever told it
'Tis as hid as Death
Had for that specific treasure
A departing breath-
Surfaces may be invested
Did the Diamond grow
... Read complete poem