Interpreted

What magic shall solve us the secret Of beauty that’s born for an hour? That gleams, in the flight of an egret, Or swoons, in the scent of a flower, With death for a dower?

What leaps in the bosk but a satyr? What pipes in the wind but a faun? What blooms in the waters that scatter But limbs of a nymph that is gone, When we walk in the dawn?

What sings on the hills but a fairy? Or sighs in the fields but a sprite? What breathes through the leaves but the airy Dim spirits of shadow and light, When we walk in the night?

Behold how the world-heart is eager To draw us and hold us and claim! Through truths of the dreams that beleaguer Her soul she makes ours the same, And death but a name.