Ii

But who can sing the workmanship gigantic That reared within its coruscating dome The roaring fountain, hurling an Atlantic Of liquid ice that flashed with flame and foam? An opal spirit, various and many formed,-- In whose clear heart reverberant fire stormed,-- Seemed its inhabitant; and through pale halls, And deep diaphanous walls, And corridors of whiteness, Auroral colors swarmed, As rosy-flickering stains, Or lambent green, or gold, or crimson, warmed The pulsing crystal of the spirit's veins With ever-changing brightness. And through the Arctic night there went a voice, As if the ancient Earth cried out, "Rejoice!" "My heart is full of lightness!"