Of their return, soon as the eastern wind
Begins to fan the innumerable palms,
Amid whose waving branches glittering stand
The beatific mansions, straight the walls,
Smaragdine domes and minarets, which grace
Or fortify the blest metropolis,
Are thickly lined with eager faces, set
With dark angelic eyes, whose glances pierce
Interminably far the rosy veils
Of pure celestial air, wherein no mote