I had no where to go,
  I had no money to spend: 
“O come with me,” the Beaver said,
  “I live at the world’s end.”

“Does the world ever end!”
  To the Beaver then said I: 
“O yes! the green world ends,” he said,
  “Up there in the blue sky.”

I walked along with him to home,
  At the edge of a singing stream—­
The little faces in the town
  Seemed made out of a dream.

I sat down in the little house,
  And ate with the kind things—­
Then suddenly a bird comes out
  Of the bushes, and he sings: 

“Have you no home?  O take my nest,
  It almost is the sky;”
And then there came along the creek
  A purple dragon-fly.

“Have you no home?” he said;
  “O come along with me,
Get on my wings—­the moon’s my home”—­
  The dragon-fly said he.

The Bee was told by a young Bat
  A man had need of home;
He flew away at once, and said
  “Come to my honeycomb!”

Even the butterfly,
  A painted hour;
Said to the homeless one: 
  “I know a flower.”

The Ant came slowly,
  Late, of course, but still
Bringing the tiny welcome
  Of his hill.

The tired turtle,
  Fumbling through the wood,
Came, asking hospitably
  “If I would?”

Even a hornet came,
  With sheathed sting,—­
He never yet had seen
  So lost a thing!

There was his nest
  Up in the singing boughs,
Among the pears,
  A fragrant humming house.

And even little
  Stupid things that crawl
Among the reeds, deeming
  That that is all,
Came a long weary way
  To bid me home.

A snake said: 
  “In the world there is a place
Where you can lie
  And dream of her white face.”

The moss said:  “Your blue eyes
  Need my green sleep”;
The willow said:  “Ah! when
  You weep I weep.”

Wonderful earth
  Of little kindly things,
That buzz and beam
  And flitter little wings!

Over the sexton’s grave
  The growing grass
Cried out:  “Come home! 
  I am alive, alas!”

         Envoi
Ah! love, the world is fading,
  Flower by flower,
Each has his little house,
  And each his hour.

The ship rocked long
  Across the weary sea,
But at the last
  There is a port for me.

BLUE FLOWER

Blue flower waving in the wind,
  Say whose blue eyes
Lift up your swaying fragile stem
  To the blue skies.

Is she a queen that lies asleep
  In a green hill,
With all her silver ornaments
  Around her still?

Or is she but a simple girl,
  Whose boy was drowned,
In some cold sea, some stormy morn,
  On some blue sound?

THE HEART UNSEEN