Musing, down through the firmament vales,
Here and there in a thousand flowers,
Even till at last she was wandering Wales,
Lured by the pure June hours,
Lured by the glamor of ancient tales,
And the glory of age-old towers.
Peony splendor of eve and dawn.
Tulips abloom on the border of day,
West on fire with the sun withdrawn,
Night and the Milky Way—