The Unknown Omen

America

An unknown ghost makes a pass
Through the canopy of a well-built tiles;
Were they bunch of people or nymph-lass?
Sometimes they do pass through isles

Across the house; are they real apparition?
Or a tale of a mind, hallucinatory and fictitious?
How could one that scare of a form shun,
And how could one avoid being ambitious

To know what is it; it has brought an unknown impatience,
And yet it has created a dale of dreamlike fancy,
Will it go out of my way, my being and lanes;
Will it a good omen forever and evermore be?

May it be, immortal and deathless thing,
If it comes to touch, love and tend this being.