But "God was still behind the skies,"

Childhood's the soul's first gala-day.

While the butter-cups toss golden heads, Consequential bees alight, Upon the downy saffron beds Of the dandelion, Fit for kings to lie on;There, a lazy butterfly, Like a thing adrift from Eden,

The loveless are the unblest, Frosts transfix their grief, Like a wreck on a reef.

Here and there a cloud is floating, White and fair as a nun in prayer.

Sad News from France all anarchy and Confusion. The King, Queen and Royal Family confined at Paris. The Soldiers joined the People, many murdered.

I really like subtle ideas and communication with refined people who take you beyond daily chores and small sad events.