Chapter II

Were structure and function parallel, The word might break the mystic spell, But function doth its test compel.

Upward to man the beaver deft In structure gains of tail bereft-- But if there were no house-skill left!--

And if in structure beavers be In tooth and larynx nearer me Than flirting blackbird in ash-tree,

His song beyond all such control Comes up in kindred echo-roll, With those that tremble in my soul.