LXV [Once, I knew a fine song]

Once, I knew a fine song,

—It is true, believe me,—

It was all of birds,

And I held them in a basket;

When I opened the wicket,

Heavens! They all flew away.

I cried, “Come back, little thoughts!”

But they only laughed.

They flew on

Until they were as sand

Thrown between me and the sky.