by Anonymous

by Anonymous
     My dress is silent when I tread the ground
     Or stay at home or stir upon the waters.
     Sometimes my trappings and the lofty air
     Raise me above the dwelling-place of men，
     And then the power of clouds carries me far
     Above the people； and my ornaments
     Loudly resound， send forth a melody
     And clearly sing， when I am not in touch
     With earth or water， but a flying spirit.