Classic Poem

THE WIZARD WIND'S A FRIEND OF MINE — MOST INTIMATE IN TRUTH !
HE WHISTLES SORROW HALF AWAY, HE GIVES ME GOLDEN YOUTH .
AND FREE AS THAT SMALL BIRD THAT EATS THE WHEAT EAR IN THE SHEAF
I AM NO LONGER MAN, BUT CLOUD, OR TUMBLED MAPLE LEAF .
ONCE HE TRANSFORMED ME TO A BEE, HUNGRY FOR HONEY DEW .
HE BLEW ME TO A WINDLAND BUSH; WITH SPEED AND JOY WE FLEW .
THE GREAT BUSH BLOOMED WITH PARCHMENTS FINE, OR SONGS THAT FEED THE SOUL ,
ALL NEW, THAT OUR DEAR EARTH SHALL HEAR, WHEN POETS REACH THEIR GOAL :
WHEN OUR GROWN CHILDREN, BREATHING FIRE SHALL JUSTIFY ALL TIME
BY HYMNS OF LIVING SILVER, SONGS WITH SUNRISE IN THE RHYME .
I WISH THAT I HAD LEARNED BY HEART SOME LYRICS READ THAT DAY .
I KNEW NOT 'TWAS A GIANT HOUR, AND SPENT IT ALL IN PLAY .
WINDLAND GLEAMS SO DEWY-WHITE, SO FULL OF CRYSTAL PEACE !
AND EVERY LEAF A SILKEN HARP, WHOSE MURMURS WILL NOT CEASE !
I GORGED THE HONEY FROM THE CUPS OF WILD FLOWERS ALL ABOUT ;
LAUGHING WHEN THE WIZARD LAUGHED AND PUT THE GNATS TO ROUT .
I READ ONCE MORE, THEN SLEPT AWHILE, THEN WOKE ON EARTH AGAIN .
I WISH THOSE SCROLLS WERE MINE, THAT I MIGHT BRING THEM UNTO MEN .
I WISH THE VILLAGE MAGAZINE HELD ONLY SONGS AS RARE
EACH WORD A SPIRIT-WONDERLAND OF PERFUME FIRE AND AIR .