In heaven is a carousel, that turns both day and night. It whirls as though beneath a spell; one cannot ever see it well, for it is made of light. My madcap, stay your flight! Take heed, it whirs the stars anew around the skyey sphere, in speeding circles lost to view, and music, music sounds thereto, so fine, we scarcely hear; only in dreams 'tis clear. In dreams we hear it from the far bright sky: a heavenly bell. My madcap dreams of that lit car, we turn together on a star; and not too swift it whirls, but well, our mighty carousel. |