noons
All is mine , all is my own ! Toss the purple fountain high ! The breast of man is a vat of stone ; I am alive , I , only I ! One little touch and all is dark ; The winter with its sparkling moons The spring with all her violets , The crimson dawns and rich sunsets , The autumn 's yellowing noons . I only toss my purple jets , And thou art one that swoons Upon a night of gust and roar , Shipwrecked among the waves , and seems Across the purple hills to roam ; Sweet odours touch him from the foam , And downward sinking still he dreams He walks the clover field at home , And hears the rattling teams . All is mine ; all is my own ! Toss the purple fountain high !