Silver and misty rose
And iris-flushed mother-of-pearl
  Is the world at the clear day's close,
River and sky and sand:
  Into a land we sail
Soft-hued like the dreams of a girl,
  Vaguely outlined and bubble-frail—
Into a mystic land.

  Speak, and the vision breaks,
Yea, feel but too strongly, it flies
  From the tumult its beauty wakes
Deep in our hearts' stronghold;
  We can but stand and gaze,
With all our souls' life in our eyes,
  As we spin out this day of days
Thin to a thread of gold.