Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore."
So sang she, so wept she,
Through a dream-night's day;
And with her magic singing kept she—
Mystical in music—
The garden of enchanting
In visionary May;
Songless from my spirits' haunting,
Thrice-threefold walled with emerald from our mortal mornings grey....
Francis Thompson