Behind a sunlit splendor, thy adoration hast behold, Like thy tender scold. Faded stars, destroyed meadows, poor cat jumps in the brook, Hence, pray whence thou come. I muse, I reflect, I question, through what grace, In your heart, skylike tenderness hast. Thy silence radiant like a quiet night, Thy starry vision has found me by sight. Eyes met, then the cat disrupts, and I curse that almighty, Eminence, warden of all—whence I am not the one to stray?