Upon the seas of Saturn I have sailed
To isles of high primeval amarant,
Where the flame-tongued, sonorous flowers enchant
The hanging surf to silence; all engrailed
...
This is enchanted ground
Whereto the nymphs are bound;
Where the hoar oaks maintain,
While seasons mount or wane,
...
The season brings but little gold,
And only rusty gules and sanguines dull
To these rude hills with darkling lava cored
And with thick, sombre rocks embossed
...
All drear and barren seemed the hours,
That passed rain-swept and tempest-blown.
The dead leaves fell like brownish notes
Within the rain's grey monotone.
...
Glossy-backed, the crows
Ward the garden-rows:
One turns to watch the farmer.
...
It lies beyond the farthest sea,
This castle whereonto I flee
When life and time hang wearily.
Yet though so far, 'tis strangely nigh:
...
Hath Sound alone a voice? Nay, 'tis not so:
Silence can speak unto the inner ear,
If it be finely tuned and keyed to hear-
A meaning-laden message, soft and low.
...
Who has seen the towers of Amithaine
Swan-throated rising from the main
Whose tides to some remoter moon
Flow in a fadeless afternoon?...
...
Alas! the evanescence of a dream,
That, like a rose, shall never blossom more!
A glimpse of unguessed things, and then the door
Of waking sense clangs to. Alas! the Gleam,
...
O sapphire lake amid autumnal mountains,
With fire of aspens round about you burning,
I would my love and I were now returning,
Perchance to leave you never—
...