My first well Day-since many ill-
I asked to go abroad,
And take the Sunshine in my hands,
And see the things in Pod-

A 'blossom just when I went in
To take my Chance with pain-
Uncertain if myself, or He,
Should prove the strongest One.

The Summer deepened, while we strove-
She put some flowers away-
And Redder cheeked Ones-in their stead-
A fond-illusive way-

To cheat Herself, it seemed she tried-
As if before a child
To fade-Tomorrow-Rainbows held
The Sepulchre, could hide.

She dealt a fashion to the Nut-
She tied the Hoods to Seeds-
She dropped bright scraps of Tint, about-
And left Brazilian Threads

On every shoulder that she met-
Then both her Hands of Haze
Put up-to hide her parting Grace
From our unfitted eyes.

My loss, by sickness-Was it Loss?
Or that Ethereal Gain
One earns by measuring the Grave-
Then-measuring the Sun-