The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants-
At Evening, it is not-
At Morning, in a Truffled Hut
It stop upon a Spot

As if it tarried always
And yet its whole Career
Is shorter than a Snake's Delay
And fleeter than a Tare-

'Tis Vegetation's Juggler-
The Germ of Alibi-
Doth like a Bubble antedate
And like a Bubble, hie-

I feel as if the Grass was pleased
To have it intermit-
This surreptitious scion
Of Summer's circumspect.

Had Nature any supple Face
Or could she one contemn-
Had Nature an Apostate-
That Mushroom-it is Him!