THE TORTOISE IN ETERNITY

Within my house of patterned horn

I sleep in such a bed

As men may keep before they're born

And after they are dead.

Sticks and stones may break their bones,

And words may make them bleed;

There is not one of them who owns

An armor to his need.

Tougher than hide or lozenged bark,

Snow-storm and thunder proof,

And quick with sun, and thick with dark,

Is this my darling roof.

Men's troubled dreams of death and birth

Pulse mother-o’ - pearl to black;

I bear the rainbow bubble Earth

Square on my scornful back.