Another night, another day
And mists be coming
Mists! A figure so much
In these years of late
With the sub-conscious
In as direct proportion
Coming.
Deep
Deep
The sun light buried
In the dark waters
Long, long ago
Now silver, some silver
Lights the sea-bosom:
Rays
To music notes transformed
In to the halls of Neptune.
With cones on their heads
The beady Spirits rise
Out of the waters.
Ah! my Monsignor
Another night, another day
And mists be coming
Mists! A figure so much
In these years of late
With the sub-conscious
In as direct proportion
Coming.
Ah! my Monsignor!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem