Fairyland
Lines:46Movement:Romanticism
Dim vales--and shadowy floods--And cloudy-looking woods,Whose forms we can't discoverFor the tears that drip all overHuge moons there wax and wane--Again--again--again--Every moment of the night--Forever changing places--And they put out the star-lightWith the breath from their pale faces.About twelve by the moon-dialOne more filmy than the rest(A kind which, upon trial,They have found to be the best)Comes down--still down--and downWith its centre on the crownOf a mountain's eminence,While its wide circumferenceIn easy drapery fallsOver hamlets, over halls,Wherever they may be--O'er the strange woods--o'er the sea--Over spirits on the wing--Over every drowsy thing--And buries them up quiteIn a labyrinth of light--And then, how deep!--O, deep!Is the passion of their sleep.In the morning they arise,And their moony coveringIs soaring in the skies,With the tempests as they toss,Like--almost any thing--Or a yellow Albatross.They use that moon no moreFor the same end as before--Videlicet a tent--Which I think extravagant:Its atomies, however,Into a shower dissever,Of which those butterflies,Of Earth, who seek the skies,And so come down again(Never-contented thing!)Have brought a specimenUpon their quivering wings.