Dimvales—andshadowyfloods—
Andcloudy-lookingwoods,
Whoseformswecan'tdiscover
Forthetearsthatdripallover
Hugemoonstherewaxandwane—
Again—again—again—
Everymomentofthenight—
Foreverchangingplaces—
Andtheyputoutthestar-light
Withthebreathfromtheirpalefaces.
Abouttwelvebythemoon-dial
Onemorefilmythantherest
(Akindwhich, upontrial,
Theyhavefoundtobethebest)
Comesdown—stilldown—anddown
Withitscentreonthecrown
Ofamountain'seminence,
Whileitswidecircumference
Ineasydraperyfalls
Overhamlets, overhalls,
Wherevertheymaybe—
O'erthestrangewoods—o'erthesea—
Overspiritsonthewing—
Overeverydrowsything—
Andburiesthemupquite
Inalabyrinthoflight—
Andthen, howdeep!—O, deep!
Isthepassionoftheirsleep.
Inthemorningtheyarise,
Andtheirmoonycovering
Issoaringintheskies,
Withthetempestsastheytoss,
Like—almostanything—
OrayellowAlbatross.
Theyusethatmoonnomore
Forthesameendasbefore—
Videlicetatent—
WhichIthinkextravagant:
Itsatomies, however,
Intoashowerdissever,
Ofwhichthosebutterflies,
OfEarth, whoseektheskies,
Andsocomedownagain
(Never-contentedthing!)
Havebroughtaspecimen
Upontheirquiveringwings.
1831
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