Chanted to chimes in Faeryland.

O, life was like a bird that sings

At morning on a vernal bough!

The springtide at the heart of things

Sang as the spring knows how.

And fair was she, and both were young;

We knew not what made time so good;

Nature with glamour-tutored tongue

Spread glory in the blood.

We climbed the dim and dreaming streets:

We reached a plateau crowned with pine:

The leaning roses breathed their sweets

'Mid many a subtle-scented vine.

We wreathed our brows with ivy-twine.

In mouldering majesty sublime,

Misty with eld, the mute of time,

A castle, dawn-enchanted, there

Above th' abyss sheer, shimmering fair,

Hung like a perilous dream in air.

Poised on a dizzy turret high,

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