You know, or don't know, that great Bacon saith,

"Fling up a straw, 't will show the way the wind blows;"[706]And such a straw, borne on by human breath,

Is Poesy, according as the Mind glows;

A paper kite which flies 'twixt Life and Death,

A shadow which the onward Soul behind throws:

And mine's a bubble, not blown up for praise,

But just to play with, as an infant plays.