Flowers on flowers, that the whole world's bowers may
⁠show not, here may the sunset show,
Lightly graven in the waters paven with ghostly gold by
⁠the clouds aglow:
Bright as love is the vault above, but lovelier lightens
⁠the wave below.

Rosy grey, or as fiery spray full-plumed, or greener than
⁠emerald, gleams
Plot by plot as the skies allot for each its glory, divine as
⁠dreams
Lit with fire of appeased desire which sounds the secret
⁠of all that seems;

Dreams that show what we fain would know, and know
⁠not save by the grace of sleep,
Sleep whose hands have removed the bands that eyes
⁠long waking and fain to weep
Feel fast bound on them—light around them strange,
⁠and darkness above them steep.