They haunt me--her lutes and her forests; No beauty on earth I see But shadowed with that dream recalls Her loveliness to me: Still eyes look coldly upon me, Cold voices whisper and say-- 'He is crazed with the spell of far Arabia, They have stolen his wits away.' THE MOUNTAINS Still, and blanched, and cold, and lone, The icy hills far off from me With frosty ulys overgrown Stand in their sculptured secrecy. No path of theirs the chamois fleet Treads, with a nostril to the wind; O'er their ice-marbled glaciers beat No wings of eagles in my mind-- Yea, in my mind these mountains rise, Their perils dyed with evening's rose; And still my ghost sits at my eyes And thirsts for their untroubled snows. QUEEN DJENIRA When Queen Djenira slumbers through The sultry noon's repose, From out her dreams, as soft she lies, A faint thin music flows. Her lovely hands lie narrow and pale With gilded nails, her head Couched in its banded nets of gold Lies pillowed on her bed. The little Nubian boys who fan Her cheeks and tresses clear, Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful voices Seem afar to hear. They slide their eyes, and nodding, say, 'Queen Djenira walks to-day The courts of the lord Pthamasar Where the sweet birds of Psuthys are.' And those of earth about her porch Of shadow cool and grey Their sidelong beaks in silence lean, And silent flit away. NEVER-TO-BE Down by the waters of the sea, Reigns the King of Never-to-be. His palace walls are black with night; His torches star and moonès light, And for his timepiece deep and grave Beats on the green unhastening wave. Windswept are his high corridors; His pleasance the sea-mantled shores; For sentinel a shadow stands With hair in heaven, and cloudy hands; And round his bed, king's guards to be, Watch pines in iron solemnity. His hound is mute; his steed at will Roams pastures deep with asphodel; His queen is to her slumber gone; His courtiers mute lie, hewn in stone; He hath forgot where he did hide His sceptre in the mountain-side. Grey-capped and muttering, mad is he-- The childless King of Never-to-be; For all his people in the deep Keep everlasting fast asleep; And all his realm is foam and rain, Whispering of what comes not again. THE DARK CHATEAU In dreams a dark château Stands ever open to me, In far ravines dream-waters flow, Descending soundlessly; Above its peaks the eagle floats, Lone in a sunless sky; Mute are the golden woodland throats Of the birds flitting by. No voice is audible. The wind Sleeps in its peace. No flower of the light can find Refuge 'neath its trees; Only the darkening ivy climbs Mingled with wilding rose, And cypress, morn and evening, time's Black shadow throws. All vacant, and unknown; Only the dreamer steps From stone to hollow stone, Where the green moss sleeps, Peers at the river in its deeps, The eagle lone in the sky, While the dew of evening drips, Coldly and silently.