Clomb with us o'er torrent and scar:
And I yearned for her oceans of beryl,
Wan mountains and cities of spar:
"'Tis not well," then she said; "you're in peril
Of falling and failing your star."
And we clomb—through a murmur of pinions,
And rattle of talons and plumes;
And a sense as of darkest dominions,
Deep, lost, of the dead and their tombs,
Swam round us, with all of their minions