I dreamed a dream of fields vivid with Spring,
Strown o’er with scentless flowers of fleckless white
Which said: “We are thy youth’s first loves!” Aright
They seemed to me as snow upon the Spring.
This dream passed. Next into Doom’s Land I swing,
Before from the abyss there rose to sight
One giant amorous lily, black as night—
A flame of ebony the days there bring.
The Doom-Pit and the lily were as one.
I dropped down their entangling, dim twilight,