I Saw The Day Like Some Great Monarch Die, Gold-Couched, Behind The Clouds' Rich Tapestries. Then, Purple-Sandaled, Clad In Silences Of Sleep, Through Halls Of Skyey Lazuli, The Twilight, Like A Mourning Queen, Trailed By, Dim-Paged Of Dreams And Shadowy Mysteries; And Now The Night, The Star-Robed Child Of These, In Meditative Loveliness Draws Nigh. Earth, Like To Romeo, Deep In Dew And Scent, Beneath Heaven'S Window, Watching Till A Light, Like Some White Blossom, In Its Square Be Set, Lifts A Faint Face Unto The Firmament, That, With The Moon, Grows Gradually Bright, Bidding Him Climb And Clasp His Juliet.