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FG al I am like a remnant of a cloud of of autun uselessly roaming in thy sky, my sun ever- glorious. They selecta touch has not yet metted my vapour making me one with thy light and thus - I count months and years sko separateel from ther, If this be thine wish and if it is thy play then take this fleeting emptiness of mine, paint in it colours, sild it wrth gold, float it on the wanton e wind and spread it varied wonders. And again when it shall be thy wish to end play at night I shall melt tits and vainish away in the dark and in the smile of the white morning shall permeate in a coolness of pwrite transparent. ^ M this 79
