she said, 'the moon is up; and see -how in the height the smoke-shaft gleamsand the shadow glides, uncaught beneath ! -our life resembles, not the smoke,but the shadow flying to its death.'fyodor tyutchev, versions from fyodor tyutchev, oxford university press, 1960the moon, who is caprice itself, looked in through your window as you lay asleep in your cradle, and said: 'this child pleases me.'