Hail mist of night! though mixed in light
Of the benign moon therein it hides
The first of seven wonders you will see:
Lo! Merlin emerges from the mist
With book in hand and magic wand.
He speaks not: but shakes his wand
And from a mist another mist is born
And Aeolus emerges with a lute in hand.
Look! Soon the airs will change, faster
The winds already blow, though not a tempest,
The neighing of the winds around the bastion-walls
Makes magic melody unheard by human ears
And this is all for you.
Lo! the trees shake, how tremble slowly the leaves:
As when the cymbals in fast numbers flow
So the leaves tremble in their sound as
The new winds flow through them:
There is a music in that colonnade
Of firs and oaks. And magic reigns
The colonnade
Lights of itself by magic hands invisible.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem