And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,
Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
Are each paved with the moon and these.
Percy Bysshe Shelley.
THE SPACIOUS FIRMAMENT ON
HIGH
The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,