70
‘Arcturus’ is his other name—
I’d rather call him ‘Star.’
It’s very mean of Science
To go and interfere!
I slew a worm the other day—
A ‘Savant’ passing by
Murmured ‘Resurgam’—’Centipede’!
‘Oh Lord—how frail are we’!
I pull a flower from the woods—
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath—
And has her in a ‘class’!
Whereas I took the Butterfly
Aforetime in my hat—
He sits erect in ‘Cabinets’—
The Clover bells forgot.
What once was ‘Heaven’
Is ‘Zenith’ now—
Where I proposed to go
When Time’s brief masquerade was done
Is mapped and charted too.
What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I’m ready for ‘the worst’—
Whatever prank betides!
Perhaps the ‘Kingdom of Heaven’s’ changed—
I hope the ‘Children’ there Won’t be ‘new fashioned’ when I come—
And laugh at me—and stare—
I hope the Father in the skies
Will lift his little girl—
Old fashioned—naught—everything—
Over the stile of ‘Pearl.’
