Hymn to Apollo - 2

The sleepless hours who
watch me as I lie,
Curtained with star-inwoven tapestries
From the broad moonlight of the sky,
Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes -
Waken me when their
Mother, the grey Dawn,
Tells them that dreams and
that the moon is gone.

Then I arise, and climbing
Heaven's blue dome,
I walk over the mountains and the waves,
leaving my robe upon the ocean foam;
My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves
Are filled with my bright
presence, and the air
Leaves the green earth to
my embraces bare.

The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill
deceit, that loves the night
and fears the day;
All men who do or even
imagine ill
fly me, and from the glory
of my ray
Good minds and open actions take new might
Until diminished by the reign of night
I feed the clouds, the
rainbows, and the flowers
With their ethereal colours;
the Moon's globe
And the pure stars in their eternal bowers
Are tinctured with my power
as with a robe;
Whatever lamps on Earth or
Heaven may shine
Are portions of one power,
Which is mine.

I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven,
Then with unwilling steps I
wander down
into the clouds of the
Atlantic even;
For grief that I depart they
weep and frown
What look is more delightful
than the smile
with which I soothe them
from the western isle?

I am the eye with which the Universe
Beholds itself and knows itself divine
All harmony of instrument or verse,
All prophecy, all medicine are mine.
All light of art or nature - to my Song
Victory and praise to their own right belong.

-Percy Shelley