Have you seen citadels glance in the sunset, and towers?
Have you seen castles of glint and of gossamer spun?
These, only these, were the heights, these hills grown with flowers,
These were the gates of the sun.
There is no music but this, no loveliness other,—
Only the reaching of arms and the rose of a breast,
Only a girl's throat—beyond this earth ends and seas smother,
And the old moon fades in the west.
There is no land beyond and no shore and no ocean,
Nothing but night and the moon and the cold thin air,
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