Far Off A Wind Blew, And I Heard Wild Echoes Of The Woods Reply The Herald Of Some Royal Word, With Bannered Trumpet, Blown On High, Meseemed Then Passed Me By: Who Summoned Marvels There To Meet, With Pomp, Upon A Cloth Of Gold; Where Berries Of The Bittersweet, That, Splitting, Showed The Coals They Hold, Sowed Garnets Through The Wold: Where, Under Tents Of Maples, Seeds Of Smooth Carnelian, Oval Red, The Spice-Bush Spangled: Where, Like Beads, The Dogwood'S Rounded Rubies Fed With Fire Blazed And Bled. And There I Saw Amid The Rout Of Months, In Richness Cavalier, A Minnesinger Lips Apout; A Gypsy Face; Straight As A Spear; A Rose Stuck In His Ear: Eyes, Sparkling Like Old German Wine, All Mirth And Moonlight; Naught To Spare Of Slender Beard, That Lent A Line To His Short Lip; October There, With Chestnut Curling Hair. His Brown Baretta Swept Its Plume Red Through The Leaves; His Purple Hose, Puffed At The Thighs, Made Gleam Of Gloom; His Tawny Doublet, Slashed With Rose, And Laced With Crimson Bows, Outshone The Wahoo'S Scarlet Pride, The Haw, In Rich Vermilion Dressed: A Dagger Dangling At His Side, A Slim Lute, Banded To His Breast, Whereon His Hands Were Pressed, I Saw Him Come.... And, Lo, To Hear The Lilt Of His Approaching Lute, No Wonder That The Regnant Year Bent Down Her Beauty, Blushing Mute, Her Heart Beneath His Foot.