A weary journey—days and months speed by
Ere he hath reached that mountain summit high,
The emerald pillar of the sapphire dome
Amid whose rocks his little chapel stood:
But lo! what vision bursts upon his gaze!
Domes, spires and churches, ’neath the sunset rays,
Gleaming ’mid many a green and palmy wood.
The wayward Genii, he remembered, loved
To weave such cities of the filmy light.
Begun and finished in a single night;