Out of that high pavilion Where the sick, wind-harassed sun In the whiteness of the day Ghostly shone and stole away - Parch'd with the utter thirst Of unnumbered Libyan sands,...
Over that morn hung heaviness, until, Near sunless noon, we heard the ship's bell beating A melancholy staccato on dead metal; Saw the bare-footed watch come running aft;...
Were there lovers in the lanes of Atlantis: Meeting lips and twining fingers In the mild Atlantis springtime? How should I know If there were lovers in the lanes of Atlantis...