Danae: VI

"Soft torrential wind
Falls through the vast, still deep
Like thick dreams pouring behind
The opened gates of sleep:
Ah, not so swift, Lord, not so bright,
Lest I be blown--a feather;
Not so white, not so white,
Lest I be withered altogether.

"Earth shifts under my feet,
Glory breaks over my head;
Speechlessly my wings I beat,
And fall mute in breathless dread:
Ah, not so swift, Lord, not so bright,
Lest I be blown--a feather;
Not so white, not so white,
Lest I be wilted altogether."