Is lost afar
Behind the crimson hills and purple lawns
Of sunset, among plains which roll their streams
Against the Evening Star!
And lo!
To the remotest point of sight,
Although I gaze upon no waste of snow,
The endless field is white;
And the whole landscape glows,
For many a shining league away,
With such accumulated light
As Polar lands would flash beneath a tropic day!
Nor lack there (for the vision grows,
And the small charm within my hands
More potent even than the fabled one,
Which oped whatever golden mystery
Lay hid in fairy wood or magic vale,
The curious ointment of the Arabian tale
Beyond all mortal sense
Doth stretch my sight s horizon, and I see,
Beneath its simple influence,
As if with Uriel s crown,
I stood in some great temple of the Sun,
And looked, as Uriel, down!)
Nor lack there pastures rich and fields all green
With all the common gifts of God,
For temperate airs and torrid sheen
) (^ Weave Edens of the sod;
// J Through lands which look one sea of billowy gold
- X/ Broad rivers wind their devious ways:
Ji f j A hundred isles in their embraces fold ^j / A hundred luminous bays;
And through yon purple haze
