A little pagan child-god plays

Beyond the far horizon haze,

And underneath the twilight trees

He blows a bubble to the breeze,

Which is borne upward in the night

And makes the heavens shine with light.

But soon it sinks to earth again,

And, hitting hills, it bursts! And then

With foam the skies are splashed and sprayed;

And that's how all the stars are made.