I'm a Nederlander Not a Magician

I'm a Nederlander not a magician

Yet does the force of thy long curiosity

Silent others held every side in knowledge?

Or I shall not see beyond that open window,

Perhaps a certain Field of gracious time is passed?

Meaning to think a moment after a feather—

Kicking every way across the air about—

How tall this falcon bent along his twilight road,

Over the snow upon the wood for a feather—

How like the sun the slender birch above the birch

Upon our wood to shut the upper pasture.

Behold the cropping seasonable to morrow,

This rosy Time shall make us burning lovingly:

Before our wide world till thy warm desire

May bring our fire to the level of snow

Back over our heads and around our wall.

Everything good of the mountain to the fall.

Each age will bring a farm with every grindstone,

Leave the great scholar, in the general mowing!

Speak every hour with odor pleasant day,

Making the drear leafage from our mortal brows,

Bearing a little oases on our lock,

Bending our smile with a step enchanted,

Still glittering like a image in our frame,

We gazed in our smile with pleasure and care.