What islands marvellous are these,That gem the sunset's tides of light—Opals aglow in saffron seas?How beautiful they lie, and bright,Like some new-found Hesperides!What varied, changing magic huesTint gorgeously each shore and hill!What blazing, vivid golds and bluesTheir seaward winding valleys fill!What amethysts their peaks suffuse!Close held by curving arms of landThat out within the ocean reach,I mark a faery city stand,Set high upon a sloping beachThat burns with fire of shimmering sand.Of sunset-light is formed each wall;Each dome a rainbow-bubble seems;And every spire that towers tallA ray of golden moonlight gleams;Of opal-flame is every hall.Alas! how quickly dims their glow!What veils their dreamy splendours mar!Like broken dreams the islands go,As down from strands of cloud and star,The sinking tides of daylight flow.
THE SNOW-BLOSSOMS
But yestereve the winter treesReared leafless, blackly bare,Their twigs and branches poignant-markedUpon the sunset-flare.White-petaled, opens now the dawn,And in its pallid glow,Revealed, each leaf-lorn, barren treeStands white with flowers of snow.
THE SUMMER MOON
How is it, O moon, that melting,Unstintedly, prodigally,On the peaks' hard majesty,Till they seem diaphanousAnd fluctuant as a veil,And pouring thy rapturous lightThrough pine, and oak, and laurel,Till the summer-sharpened green,Softening and tremulous,Is a lustrous miracle—How is it that I find,When I turn again to thee,That thy lost and wasted lightIs regained in one magic breath?
THE RETURN OF HYPERION
The dungeon-clefts of TartarusAre just beyond yon mountain-girdle,Whose mass is bound around the bulkOf the dark, unstirred, unmoving East.Alike on the mountains and the plain,The night is as some terrific dream,That closes the soul in a crypt of dreadApart from touch or sense of earth,As in the space of Eternity.What light unseen perturbs the darkness?Behold! it stirs and fluctuatesBetween the mountains and the starsThat are set as guards above the prisonOf the captive Titan-god. I knowThat in the deeps beneath, HyperionDivides the pillared vault of dark,And stands a space upon its ruin.Then light is laid upon the peaks,As the hand of one who climbs beyond;And, lo! the Sun! The sentinel starsAre dead with overpotent flame,And in their place Hyperion stands.The night is loosened from the land,As a dream from the mind of the dreamer.A great wind blows across the dawn,Like the wind of the motion of the world.