| |
| IN the greenest of our valleys | |
| By good angels tenanted, | |
| Once a fair and stately palace— | |
| Radiant palace—reared its head. | |
| In the monarch Thought’s dominion, | 5 |
| It stood there; | |
| Never seraph spread a pinion | |
| Over fabric half so fair. | |
| |
| Banners yellow, glorious, golden, | |
| On its roof did float and flow | 10 |
| (This—all this—was in the olden | |
| Time long ago), | |
| And every gentle air that dallied, | |
| In that sweet day, | |
| Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, | 15 |
| A wingèd odor went away. | |
| |
| Wanderers in that happy valley | |
| Through two luminous windows saw | |
| Spirits moving musically, | |
| To a lute’s well-tunèd law, | 20 |
| Round about a throne where, sitting, | |
| Porphyrogene, | |
| In state his glory well befitting, | |
| The ruler of the realm was seen. | |
| |
| And all with pearl and ruby glowing | 25 |
| Was the fair palace door, | |
| Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, | |
| And sparkling evermore, | |
| A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty | |
| Was but to sing, | 30 |
| In voices of surpassing beauty, | |
| The wit and wisdom of their king. | |
| |
| But evil things, in robes of sorrow, | |
| Assailed the monarch’s high estate; | |
| (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow | 35 |
| Shall dawn upon him desolate!) | |
| And round about his home the glory | |
| That blushed and bloomed, | |
| Is but a dim-remembered story | |
| Of the old time entombed. | 40 |
| |
| And travellers now within that valley | |
| Through the red-litten windows see | |
| Vast forms that move fantastically | |
| To a discordant melody; | |
| While, like a ghastly rapid river, | 45 |
| Through the pale door | |
| A hideous throng rush out forever, | |
| And laugh—but smile no more. | |
| |
