Chapter XVIII

To an unfettered Soul's quick nimble haste Are falling stars and heart's thoughts but slow-paced, Thinner than burnt air flies this Soul, and she, Whom four new-coming and four parting suns Had found, and left the mandrake's tenant, runs, Thoughtless of change, when her firm destiny Confined and enjailed her that seemed so free Into a small blue shell, the which a poor Warm bird o'erspread, and sat still evermore, Till her enclosed child kicked, and picked itself a door.