LAY OF THE BOSS. 253 



" Upon which lifted sign, 



What worship will be mine ! 

 What addressing, what caressing, 

 What thanks, and praise and blessing ! 



" A wind-like joy will rush 



Through every tree and bush, 

 Bending softly in affection, 

 And spontaneous benediction. 



" Insects, that only may 



Live in a sunbright ray, 

 To my whiteness, to my whiteness 

 Shall be drawn, as to a brightness. 



And every moth and bee 



Shall near me reverently, 

 Wheeling round me, wheeling o'er me 

 Coronals of motioned glory. 



I ween the very skies 



Will look down in surprise, 

 When low on earth they see me, 

 With my cloudy aspect dreamy. 

 22 



