All That I Know Of A Certain Star, Is, It Can Throw (Like The Angled Spar) Now A Dart Of Red, 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.