Slow-gliding, luminous shapes,
Spent meteors moving large and dim
Past the thin gold disk of the sun-fish, past
The rosy ocean-stars that lie
Deep down on the cool, dim moss.
Spent meteors moving large and dim
Past the thin gold disk of the sun-fish, past
The rosy ocean-stars that lie
Deep down on the cool, dim moss.
Were an opal cloven through the heart
Would it show such colors as these—
Sheer, limpid green of the peridot,
The blue of the moonstone's heart,
Rose-purple of almandines.
Would it show such colors as these—
Sheer, limpid green of the peridot,
The blue of the moonstone's heart,
Rose-purple of almandines.
They are moonlight patterned through
The jewelled oriels
Of the mer-king's palace beneath
Its low-arched, murmurous domes
The jewelled oriels
Of the mer-king's palace beneath
Its low-arched, murmurous domes
They are bubbles, pulsing, rounded, sleek
The foam-sprite blows on a silvern pipe
That would burst with a mortal's breath.
The foam-sprite blows on a silvern pipe
That would burst with a mortal's breath.
Now they are gone, they have floated down,
And the moveless, dark green water
Seems solid and still as jade.
And the moveless, dark green water
Seems solid and still as jade.
THE CHINE
Within the chine where we are summoned now
By water tinkling airily and low
We find no flower, orchis fleshy pale,
Nor arbutus, nor hyacinths that frail
Blossom the bare snow-haunted woods amid—
The smallest veinings of a maiden's lid
Are no more sweet of tint—but moss, yes moss,
By water tinkling airily and low
We find no flower, orchis fleshy pale,
Nor arbutus, nor hyacinths that frail
Blossom the bare snow-haunted woods amid—
The smallest veinings of a maiden's lid
Are no more sweet of tint—but moss, yes moss,
[ 36 ]
