Classic Poem

in this fairy land of light
no mortal ere has been
and the dreadful grandeu[r] of this sight
by them hath not been seen

t'would strike them shudering to the earth
like the flash from a thunder cloud
it would quench their light & joyous mirth
and fit them for the shroud

the rising of our palaces
like visions of the deep
and the glory of their structure
no mortal voice can speak

the music of our songs
and our mighty trumpets swell
& the sounding of our silver harps
no mortal tongue can tell

of us they know but little
save when the storm doth rise
and the mighty waves are tossing
agains[t] the arched skys

then oft they see us striding
oe'r the billows snow white foam
or hear us speak in thunder
when we stand in grandeur lone

on the darkest of the mighty clouds
which veil the pearly moon
around us lightning flashing
nights blackness to illume

the music of our songs
and our mighty trumpets
swell & the sounding of our silver
harp[s] no mortal tongue can tell