a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone

I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rains,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.

‘The Cloud,’ Percy Bysshe Shelley (1820)