Classic Poem

The pulse of sunlight, ocean, air and flame,
The pulse of rhythm along the cadenced line,
The pulse of music, Ponto's pulse and mine,
Are they diverse, O Wizard, or the same?

I heard the Wizard answer from the sky:
“The universe is but a phantom show;
I bid one shadow come, another go;
There is but one thing real; it is I.

“Their strength is but a little heat; their soul
Is but a little swiftness; they are waves
That only move to find their sudden graves,
That only seem to live because they roll.”

He said moreover, “Each to each I turn;
I interchange and play the game agen;
I crown the water-jellies kings of men;
I summon midges from the kingly urn.

“The same!” the Wizard said, “the very same!
The same in matter, rhythmus, heat and power!
I know not why the fleeting shapes I shower
Around my throne bear difference of name.”