 
Seeker for Eldorado, magic land, Whose gold is beauty fine-spun, amber-clear, O’er what Moon-mountains, down what Valley of fear By what love waters fringed with pallid sand, Did thy foot falter? Say what airs have fanned Thy fervid brow, blown from no terrene sphere, What rustling wings, what echoes thrilled thine ear From mighty tombs whose brazen ports expand? Seeker, who never quite attained, yet caught, Moulded and fashioned, as by strictest law The rainbow’d moon-mist and the flying gleam To mortal loveliness, for pity and awe, To us what carven dreams thy hand has brought Dreams with the serried logic of a dream. |
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