Two Worlds

PL

It makes no difference abroad —
The seasons fit the same,
The mornings blossom into noons,
And split their pods of flame.

Wild-flowers kindle in the woods,
The brooks brag all the day;
No blackbird bates his jargoning
For passing Calvary.

Auto-da-fé and Judgment
Are nothing to the bee;
His separation from his rose
To him seems misery.

First print Nature XX, 20
Johnson 620 | Franklin 686

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