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."
