The shrewmouse

The creatures with the shining eyes

That live among the tender grass

See great stars falling down the skies

And mighty comets pass.

Torches of thought within the mind

Wave fire upon the dancing streams

Of souls that shake upon them wind

In rain of falling dreams.

The shrewmouse builds her windy nest

And laughs amid the corn:

She hath no dreams within her breast:

God smiled when she was born.