O Mirroring waters, blue with sky,
May I, dead leaf, upon you lie?
I fall, I sail—a fiery flight!
In glorious gold I come—Goodnight!
O living leaf that leaves to fly,
You are my one, my own sun eye.
Your death gives life that I glad catch;
Together—what a priceless match!
The artist saw the deep, profound,
Saw beauty fall without a sound;
With brush he lifts and glorifies
His treasure-trove that never dies.