Ii

Through halls of columned scarlet, Like some dark queen, the Dusk Trails skirts of myrrh and musk, Hung in each ear, a starlet Gleams,--gems the clouds’ gaunt Jinn Guard; and, beneath her chin, The moon, an opal tusk.

There lies a ghostly glory Upon the sea and sand; A gleam, as of a hand, Stretched from the realms of story, Of rosy golden ray; Pointing the world the way To some far Fairyland.

As fades the west’s vermilion Above the distant coasts, The stars come out in hosts; Within the night’s pavilion, As flower speaks to flower, Dim hour calls to hour, Pale with the past’s sweet ghosts.