Music
Within the room a mist of music rising
Between my weary soul and the clamorous world.
While through the window floats another song of men's devising
From a fountain like a frail pale feather, cunningly upcurled.
Between my weary soul and the clamorous world.
While through the window floats another song of men's devising
From a fountain like a frail pale feather, cunningly upcurled.
That sky pomp, we call sunset, flares, slow winding
In long procession through the western gates ajar,
With pageant of plumed purple gonfalons, and blinding
Proud flash of swords, it leaves us to the twilight, and one pale star.
In long procession through the western gates ajar,
With pageant of plumed purple gonfalons, and blinding
Proud flash of swords, it leaves us to the twilight, and one pale star.
58
