To intercept his yellow plan
The sun does not allow
Caprices of the atmosphere;
And even when the snow
Heaves balls of specks like vicious boy
Directly in his eye,
Does not so much as turn his head—
Busy with majesty!
‘Tis his to stimulate the earth,
And magnetize the sea,
And bind astronomy in place—
Yet any passer-by
Would deem Ourselves the busier,
As the minutest bee
That rides supports a thunder,
A bomb to justify!
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