And knew no more till I fell right here;
But how I became so like a feather
Is problem I can unravel never.
"But, oh, how the sun begins to burn!
I think I must to the clouds return.
Farewell, my boy! but you must not fret;
We meet again, as we now have met,
If not as a feather, perhaps a tree,
Or whatever the Wise One may make of me."