Down a long aisle of beechen trees I rode,
And came upon a small and sunny vale,
And there I met a face from out a dream,
An ancient dream, a dark and lovely face.—
Give me your fan of pearl and ivory!
[He takes the fan from The Marquise.
I’ll turn enchanter, use it for my rod,
And make you see, Marquise, the very place!
[He points with the fan.
Here sprang the silver column of a beech;