TO RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Poet, whose words are like the tight-packed seed

Sealed in the capsule of a silver flower,

Still at your art we wonder as we read,

The art dynamic charging each word with power.

Seeds of the silver flower of Emerson:

One, on the winds to Scotland brought, did sink

In Carlyle's heart; and one was lately blown

To Belgium, and flowered in — Maeterlinck.