Where foam upblown sprayed with its liquid stars
My plumes for all their dim cerulean grain.
From age to age the lonely tones I stored
In crystal deeps of unheard memory;
Froze them with virgin cold fast to the cups
Of wavering lilies; bade the roses bind
The orbed harmonies in burning rest;
Thrilled with that dread elixir, dreaming song,
The veins of violets; made the green gloom
Of myrtle-leaves hush the sounds intricate;