Shadow replying to shadow through the whole.

Did eyes of the butterfly wooer mark all this,—

A subtlety too fine for half mankind?

He tossed a shred of paper on to his lawn;

He saw the white wings blindly fluttering round it.

He did not hear the whisper of Shadow-of-a-Leaf,

Was this their exquisite artistry of choice?

Had wooers like these evolved this loveliness?

He groped into the orchestral universe

As one who strives to trace a symphony