To interrupt 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 passing by
Would deem Ourselves—the busier
As the Minutest Bee
That rides—emits a Thunder—
A Bomb—to justify—