Hushed is my garb when I tread on the ground
or sojourn in creeks, or the shallows stir up.
Over men's homes there heave me sometimes
my trappings, and this tumultuous wind,
and widely the might of the welkin me then
bears over mankind. These adronments of mine
loudly resound and melody make
lustily sing, when I am not lying
on flood and on field - a waydfaring sprite