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And fear not lest Existence closing your
Account, and mine, should know the like no more;
The Eternal Sákí from that Bowl has pour’d
Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour
When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As the Sea’s self should heed a pebble-cast.
A woman sits on a great globe, a peach-coloured sphere, perhaps the Earth, and gazes upwards; she holds a great brass or golden bowl from which bubbles spin downwards.