Spread wings more black than Hell’s high-altar—ribbed
As are the vampire-bat’s. The night grew old,
And I was then aware they shaped a sword....
In that domain and interval of dream
’Twas dawn upon the headlands of the world,
And I, appalled, beheld how men had reared
A mountain, dark below the morning star—
A peak made up of houses and of herds,
Of cradles, yokes and all the handiwork
Of man. Upon its crest were gems and gold,