Whence Do Ye Come, Ye Creatures? Each Of You Is Perfect As An Angel! Wings And Eyes Stupendous In Their Beauty--Gorgeous Dyes In Feathery Fields Of Purple And Of Blue! Would God I Saw A Moment As Ye Do! I Would Become A Molecule In Size, Rest With You, Hum With You, Or Slanting Rise Along Your One Dear Sunbeam, Could I View The Pearly Secret Which Each Tiny Fly-- Each Tiny Fly That Hums And Bobs And Stirs Hides In Its Little Breast Eternally From You, Ye Prickly, Grim Philosophers With All Your Theories That Sound So High: Hark To The Buz A Moment, My Good Sirs!