The spires of sand spring up at every gust That bids them dance and scatter and lays them low: He sits impassive, as the ages flow And bear superbly the mirage of lust....
Spring, and the wispy clouds that fade away And draw the ecstatic soul in pain to aspire In maddening flight through heaven's thin flood of fire To melt in rapture at the heart of day,...
Swags up! and yet I turn upon the way. The yellow hill against a dapple sky, With tufts and clumps of thorn, the bush whereby All through the wonder-pregnant night I lay...
In what pearl-paven mossy cave By what green sea Art thou reclining, virgin of the wave, In realms more full of splendid mystery Than that strong northern flood whence came...