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It seemed some morn unearthly drew
To that grave glamourous place,
Where, fearful of some far adieu,
I talked with one who never knew
The peril of her face.

The joy that lives is mightier far
Than foretaste of all grief unborn.
The earth to youth is a silver star
That glitters on the edge of morn,
A star! a star! a dancing star.

The fair, the mystic, happy morn!
Dawn glimmered on the gladdening sea;
Each zephyr blew an elfin horn
To echoes in felicity.
All sounds to silver rhythm ran:
Came flutings as from piping Pan
In purpled hills of Arcady!

Seaward we heard the breakers roar;
And the belated nightingales
Sang all their moonlight raptures o'er,
Enchanted still in echoing vales.
We lingered by the brightening shore;
We leapt upon the roseate strand:
The joy that in our hearts we bore
We loved, nor longed to understand.
Soft siren voices evermore
Chanted to chimes in Faeryland.

O, life was like a bird that sings
At morning on a vernal bough!
The springtide at the heart of things
Sang as the spring knows how.
And fair was she, and both were young;
We knew not what made time so good;
Nature with glamour-tutored tongue
Spread glory in the blood.

We climbed the dim and dreaming streets:
We reached a plateau crowned with pine:
The leaning roses breathed their sweets
'Mid many a subtle-scented vine.
We wreathed our brows with ivy-twine.

In mouldering majesty sublime,
Misty with eld, the mute of time,
A castle, dawn-enchanted, there
Above th' abyss sheer, shimmering fair,
Hung like a perilous dream in air.
Poised on a dizzy turret high,
Enfolded with the gorgeous sky,
We listened, she and I,
In wonder, 'mazed. Without a word
A soul had spoken, soul had heard.
All suddenly came, charged with tears,
The sweetness of the human years.

We saw deep forests far away
Kindle to meet the kiss of day;
And mists with morn's delight uprise
Like love thoughts in a maiden's eyes.
We shared the dream that never dies.

Our hearts were hushed with vague desire;
We breathed in kingdoms wildly new,
Enthralled by Memnon's mystic lyre
In regions whence the Ph[oe]nix flew;
Dumb splendour round us blown, and higher