"Therein," said Atmâ, "may lie the reason why evanescent beauty stirs
us most. It may be more heavenly in meaning or affinity than things that
remain. This has sometimes perplexed me.

"For, ever most our love is given
To glories whose decadence fleet
Has more of changeful earth than heaven;

The heart's astir,
And sympathies leap forth to greet
The mingling fair
Of heavenly hues limned in empyreal bow
Aloft in dewy air, but ere we know
Their place and method true they fade away,
And fancy follows still, though things as beauteous stay.

What joyous note,
Warbled in bliss of upper air,
May with the one death-song compare
That floats among the reeds, and blends
With wild wind's plaint, till silence ends
In haunt remote
Sweet life and song;
They float away the reeds among.

"I beware me of types," he continued, "though I know nothing real. I am
surrounded by images, my present state of being is a shadow, but I
crave reality. The symbol is fair, but Truth is fairer. To that verity
all types must yield, how beautiful soever they be, or meet to express