  The silver and violet leopard of the night Spotted with stars and smooth with silence sprang; And though three doors stood open, the end of light Closed like a trap; and stillness was a clang. Under the leopard sky of lurid stars I strove with evil sleep the hot night long, Dreams dumb and swollen of triumphs without wars, Of tongueless trumpet and unanswering gong. I saw a pale imperial pomp go by, Helmet and hornÈd mitre and heavy wreath; Their high strange ensigns hung upon the sky And their great shields were like the doors of death. Their mitres were as moving pyramids And all their crowns as marching towers were tall; Their eyes were cold under their carven lids And the same carven smile was on them all. They passed unfaltering till it found an end In one long shallow step; and these descending Fared forth anew as long away to wend. I thought they travelled for a thousand years; And at the end was nothing for them all, For all that splendour of sceptres and of spears, But a new step, another easy fall. The smile of stone seemed but a little less, The load of silver but a little more: And ever was that terraced wilderness And falling plain paved like a palace floor. Rust red as gore crawled on their arms of might And on their faces wrinkles and not scars: Till the dream suddenly ended; noise and light Loosened the tyranny of the tropic stars. But over them like a subterranean sun I saw the sign of all the fiends that fell; And a wild voice cried “Hasten and be done, Is there no steepness in the stairs of hell?” Turned the round real world, His iron vice; Down the grey garden paths a bird called twice, And through three doors mysterious daylight came. |
|
