67
An Opal.
I have a magic flower that knoweth not to fade,
Rosily it blossoms through the winter undismayed,
Each fairy petal keeps its satin sheen,
And garners sunshine where no sun has been.
The glory of uncounted summer days
Lies at its core, and all the silver rays
That moons have lavished on uncharted seas
Fill it with glimmering mysteries.
Rosily it blossoms through the winter undismayed,
Each fairy petal keeps its satin sheen,
And garners sunshine where no sun has been.
The glory of uncounted summer days
Lies at its core, and all the silver rays
That moons have lavished on uncharted seas
Fill it with glimmering mysteries.
My magic flower, unfed by air or rain,
Hath in it glamours from a purple plain
Drenched in still twilight and the velvet deeps
Of rich sky spaces ere the first star peeps.
Green of dim forests, and dew-nurtured glades,
Stabbed by the noonday sun's imperial blades,
And steel-blue gleams from bergs that silent ride
In white enchantment the Antarctic tide.
Hath in it glamours from a purple plain
Drenched in still twilight and the velvet deeps
Of rich sky spaces ere the first star peeps.
Green of dim forests, and dew-nurtured glades,
Stabbed by the noonday sun's imperial blades,
And steel-blue gleams from bergs that silent ride
In white enchantment the Antarctic tide.
A crystal chalice, filled with tinted wine,
Whose every bubble sparkles with a new design,
A dream of colour in a stone arrested
And with a lovely permanence invested.
Whose every bubble sparkles with a new design,
A dream of colour in a stone arrested
And with a lovely permanence invested.
