The Wind

So wayward is the wind to-night 'Twill send the planets tumbling down; And all the waving trees are light In gauzes wafted from the moon. Faint streaky wisps of roaming cloud Are swiftly from the mountains swirl'd; The wind is like a floating shroud Wound light above the shivering world. I think I see a little star Entangled in a knotty tree, As trembling fishes captured are In nets from the eternal sea. There seems a bevy in the air Of spirits from the sparkling skies: There seems a maiden with her hair All tumbled in my blinded eyes. O, how they whisper, how conspire, And shrill to one another call ! I fear that, if they cannot tire, The moon, her shining self, will fall. Blow ! Scatter even if you will Like spray the stars about mine eyes ! Wind, overturn the goblet, spill On me the everlasting skies !