Proud Music of the Storm(一)
1 Proud music of the storm, Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies, Strong hum of forest tree-tops - wind of the mountains, Personified dim shapes - you hidden orchestras, You serenades of phantoms with instruments alert, Bending with Nature's rhythmus all the tongues of nations; You chords left as by vast composers - you choruses, You formless, free, religious dances - you from the Orient, You undertone of rivers, roar of pouring cataracts, You sounds from distant guns with galloping cavalry, Echoes of camps with all the different bugle-calls, Trooping tumultuous, filling the midnight late, bending me powerless, Entering my lonesome slumber-chamber, why have you seiz'd me? |