The small birds peck at apples ripe,
  And twice as big as them in size;
The wind doth make the hedge's leaves
  Shiver with joy, until it dies.
Young Gossamer is in the field;
  He holds the flowers with silver line -
They nod their heads as horses should.
  And there are forty dappled kine
As fat as snails in deep, dark wells,
  And just as shiny too - as they
Lie in a green field, motionless,
  And everyone now stares my way.
I must become a starer too:
  I stare at them as urchins can
When seamen talk, or any child
  That sees by chance its first black man.
I stare at drops of rain that shine
  Like glow-worms, when the time is noon;
I stare at little stars in Heaven,
  That try to stare like the big Moon.