I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, And the moon's with a girdle of pearl;

The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,

When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, Over a torrent sea,

Sunbeam proof, I hang like a roof,

The mountains its columns be, The triumphal arch, through which I march, With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the powers of the air are chained to my chair,

Is the million colored bow;

The sphere-fire above, its soft colors move, Whilst the moist earth was laughing below.

I am the daughter of earth and water,
And the nursling of the sky;

I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;

I change, but I cannot die.

But after a rain, when, with never a stain,

The pavilion of heaven is bare,

And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams,

Build up the blue dome of air

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost
from the tomb,

I arise and build it again.