The Symptom of the Gale —
The Second of Dismay —
Between its Rumor and its Face —
Is almost Revelry —

The Houses firmer root —
The Heavens cannot be found —
The Upper Surfaces of things
Take covert in the Ground —

The Mem’ry of the Sun
Not Any can recall —
Although by Nature’s sterling Watch
So scant an interval —

And when the Noise is caught
And Nature looks around —
“We dreamed it”? She interrogates —
“Good Morning” — We propound?

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