As kingfishers catch fire,
dragonflies draw
flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name; Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying What I do is me: for that I came.