THE tiny thing of painted gauze that flutters in the sun br And sinks upon the breast of night with all its living done; br br The unconsidered seed that from the garden blows away, br Blooming its little time to bloom in one short summer day; br br The leaf the idle wind shakes down in autumn from the tree, br The grasshopper who for an hour makes gayest minstrelsy-- br br These--and this restless soul of mine--are one with flaming spheres br And cold, dead moons whose ghostly fires haunt unremembered years.