O Emily
of fire
transcending
veriest haven
of contentment
To be
O Emily
that does not question
whether 'tis nobler in the mind
but sleeps--perchance, she dreams
and, unsupposing--ends them
aye, there's the rub
the consummation Emily, too, has wished
When we have shuffled off
she licks her paws. There's the respect--
that makes her portent Emily of life
when she herself might our quietus make
with a mere shifting
Now is the winter of our discontent made summer by
this Emily--a spark, a sprite
in the closets of the night
But Emily is shaped for sportive tricks
O Emily--a wanton ambling nymph,
O Emily, fur-tailed, of fair proportion
what,immortal Emily
thou framed in gleeful witchery
who spied
her shadow
in the sun
and made of it imaginary puissance
that did affright the air
admit me Chorus to this Emily
