Tonight, in the infinitesimallight of the stars, the trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors. I walk among them, but none of them are noticing. Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping I must most perfectly resemble them--Thoughts gone dim. It is more natural to me, lying down. Then the sky and I are in open conversation, and I shall be useful when I lie down finally: Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.