'My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck
on my distant and day-long ramble,
They rise together, they slowly circle around.
I believe in those wing’d purposes,
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing
And consider green and violet and tufted crown
And do not call the tortoise unworthy because
she is not something else,
And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut,
yet trills pretty well to me,
And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.'