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128 POEMS.
��XXIII. THE BALLOON.
VT'OU've seen balloons set, have n't you? ^ So stately they ascend It is as swans discarded you For duties diamond.
Their liquid feet go softly out
Upon a sea of blond ; They spurn the air as 't were too mean
For creatures so renowned.
Their ribbons just beyond the eye, They struggle some for breath,
And yet the crowd applauds below ; They would not encore death.
The gilded creature strains and spins,
Trips frantic in a tree, Tears open her imperial veins
And tumbles in the sea.
�� �
