W. R. CHILDE
LES HALLUCINÉS
This is the singing of the sons of Hâli,
As they stand at their booth-doors when brazen eve
Covers the city of Chrysopolis
Like the vast cup of an inverted flower,
And into the pale blue cope of marble twilight
Steal up men's souls like incense strange and pure.
"This is the singing of the sons of Hâli,