If you would happy company win, br Dangle a palm-nut from a tree, br Idly in green to sway and spin, br Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; and see, br A nimble titmouse enter in. br br Out of earth's vast unknown of air, br Out of all summer, from wave to wave, br He'll perch, and prank his feathers fair, br Jangle a glass-clear wildering stave, br And take his commons there — br br This tiny son of life; this spright, br By momentary Human sought, br Plume will his wing in the dappling light, br Clash timbrel shrill and gay — br And into time's enormous nought, br Sweet-fed, will flit away.