Give me a chamber paved with emerald
And hung with arras green as evening skies,
Broidered with halcyons, moons, and heavily thralled
White lilies, cold rare comfort for the eyes.
Of triumph built was radiant yesterday:
Like an imperial eagle to the sun
My soul bare up her dreams the glorious way
Through flagrant ordeals august, and won
To burning eyries, till beneath her wing
Rankled the shaft. Her Archer was abroad;
And hooded with strange darkness, shuddering
Down pain's dull spiral, sank she on the sod.
Close round, green dusk of dews! No more we dare
The blue inviolate castles of the air.