The powers whose name and shape no living creature knows
have pulled the immortal rose;
and though the seven lights bowed in their dance and wept,
the polar dragon slept,
his heavy rings uncoiled from glimmering deep to deep:
when will he wake from sleep?
Great powers of falling wave and wind and windy fire,
with your harmonious choir
encircle her I love and sing her into peace,
that my old care may cease;
unfold your flaming wings and cover out of sight
the nets of day and night.
dim powers of drowsy thought, let her no longer be
like the pale cup of the sea,
when winds have gathered and sun and moon burned dim
above its cloudy rim;
but let a gentle silence wrought with music flow
whither her footsteps go.