  Earth has been splendid in her changing moods, Whose scattered glories mark the moment spent; Reliques of mirth or thoughtful solitudes Betoken what a Christ or Dante meant. What smiling dream, what happy, happy hour Yielded an Athens for the bride of Time! What darker reverie wrought the Roman flower Whose crimson petals stained the grass with crime! Mood after mood, its subtle secret hid, Plies in the earth and has its moody way, Patient or swift—to build a pyramid, Or strike a Phidias from the quickened clay ... A reverie, that is cities on a hill, Or laughter trembling in a daffodil. |
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