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Poem	When we stand on the tops of Things -- And like the Trees, look down -- The smoke all cleared away from it -- And Mirrors on the scene -- Just laying light -- no soul will wink Except it have the flaw -- The Sound ones, like the Hills -- shall stand -- No Lighting, scares away -- The Perfect, nowhere be afraid -- They bear their dauntless Heads, Where others, dare not go at Noon, Protected by their deeds -- The Stars dare shine occasionally Upon a spotted World -- And Suns, go surer, for their Proof, As if an Axle, held --
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