My Star

All that I knowOf a certain star,Is, it can throw(Like the angled spar)Now a dart of red,Now a dart of blue,Till my friends have saidThey would fain see, too,My star that dartles the red and the blue!Then it stops like a bird,—like a flower, hangs furled;They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.What matter to me if their star is a world?Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.