When, in this world of manifested life, The undying Spirit, setting forth from Me, Taketh on form, it draweth to itself From Being's storehouse,--which containeth all,-- Senses and intellect. The Sovereign Soul Thus entering the flesh, or quitting it, Gathers these up, as the wind gathers scents, Blowing above the flower-beds. Ear and Eye, And Touch and Taste, and Smelling, these it takes,-- Yea, and a sentient mind;--linking itself To sense-things so.