I bear the Scales,
where hang in equipoise
The night and day;
and when unto my lips I put my trumpet,
with its stress and noise
Fly the white clouds
like tattered sails of ships;
The tree-tops lash the air with sounding whips;
Southward the clamorous sea-fowl wing their flight;
The hedges are all red with haws and hips,
The Hunter's Moon reigns empress of the night.
