  I saw the day like some great monarch die, Gold-couched, behind the clouds' rich tapestries. Then, purple-sandaled, clad in silences Of sleep, through halls of skyey lazuli. The twilight, like a mourning queen, trailed by, Dim-paged of dreams and shadowy mysteries; And now the night, the star-robed child of these, In meditative loveliness draws nigh. Earth,—like to Romeo,—deep in dew and scent, Beneath Heaven's window, watching till a light, Like some white blossom, in its square be set,— Lifts a faint face unto the firmament, That, with the moon, grows gradually bright, Bidding him climb and clasp his Juliet. |
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