And palace halls are opened in the sky—
I gaze upon the gold strewn in the west,
A miser, of his jewels dispossessed.
I have played in the sunset’s crimson rain,
And felt its saffron torch wave o’er my brow,
That heated to excess my maddened brain,
And threw a halo ’round my heart—but now,
Like some poor bird far from its kindred sky,
I look into the sunset—look and sigh.
I have no friend to lean upon my heart,