Of fair attire and fairer forms, which pass
Like varying groups on a magician’s glass....
Walk in St. Mark’s again, some few hours after,
When a bright sleep is on each storied pile,—
When fitful music, and inconstant laughter,
Give place to Nature’s silent moonlight smile:
Now fancy wants no faery gale to waft her
To Magian haunt, or charm-engirdled isle,
All too content, in passive bliss, to see
This show divine is visible poetry.