And like a flag, incarnadined in dreams,
All crimsonly I thrill!
There have iconoclasts no power to harm,
So, folded grandly in translucent mist,
I let the lights stream down my jasper arm,
And o'er my opal fist.
An Adamite of old, primeval Earth,
I see the Sphinx upon the porphyry shore,
Deprived of utterance ages ere her birth,