The stars have lit in heaven their lamps of gold, The viewless dew falls lightly on the wold, The gentle air, that softly sweeps the leaves, A strain of faint, unearthly music weaves; As when the harp of heaven remotely plays, Or cygnet's wail - or song of sorrowing fays That float amid the moonshine glimmerings pale, On wings of woven air in some enchanted vale.英文原著 · 《The Culprit Fay and Other Poems》