Mirage

Whose was the melody
In the still wood?
From a small bell it rang
Close where I stood,
Windlessly trembling
Its bright blue hood.

Blue in the green of leaves,
Blue in the grass
The dark sea flashes
In memory's glass,
In the still wood its foam
White as I pass.

Through the still trees it rolled
Once long ago,
Great sea-bells are tolling
Hidden below,
Ringing clear bells in summer,
Muffled bells in snow.