The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants –

At Evening, it is not

At Morning, in a Truffled Hut

It stop opon a Spot

As if it tarried always

And yet it’s whole Career

Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay –

And fleeter than a Tare –

’Tis Vegetation’s Juggler –

The Germ of Alibi –

Doth like a Bubble antedate

And like a Bubble, hie –

I feel as if the Grass was pleased

To have it intermit –

This surreptitious Scion

Of Summer’s circumspect.

Had Nature any supple Face

Or could she one contemn –

Had Nature an Apostate –

That Mushroom – it is Him!