Then a wind blew; 
And he who had forgot he moved 
Lonely amid the green and silver morning weather, 
Suddenly grew 
Aware of clouds and trees
Gleaming and white and shafted, shaken together 
And blown to music by the ruffling breeze. 

Like flush of wings 
The moment passed: he stood 
Dazzled with blossom in the swaying wood;
Then he remembered how, through all swift things, 
This mortal scene stands built of memories,? 
Shaped by the wise 
Who gazed in breathing wonderment, 
And left us their brave eyes
To light the ways they went.