Beyond heaven’s shuttered dome I have found a way to come where swifter than thought may fly the breath of a morning sigh.

Falcon thou art, and hast made thy nest in the grassy glade, and? Its air, I am fearful, might foreshorten thy pinion’s flight.

Art thou dust become? It is clear thou canst not be resting here; on the breeze of the morning ride, sit not by the roadway side.

From the stream of the stars arise and cross the Nile of the skies; for the heart must die right soon if it lodge, though it be in the moon.

Let its breast no longer beam with the rockless lightning’s gleam, less worth than a straw reckon I the mountain of Sinai.

How men may the manners keep of the throng, yet consuming leap ask not of us, whom the gaze of the passing fair one slays.

When I am dead, this may lay men will recite, and say: ‘One man, who was self-aware, transformed a world everywhere’.