Now a dart of blue;
Till my friends have said
They would fain see, too,
My star that dartles the red and the blue!
Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:
They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.
What matter to me if their star is a world?
Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.
To illustrate the contrary to this let us refer to a few lines from Riley’s “The South Wind and the Sun,” noting that the poise of the tone is considerably longer at the end of each line.
And the humming-bird that hung