My eyes lit for the first time on the Queen,
Who sat upon the daïs, by her lord
Half-shadowed, on a throne of ivory,
And all the hate died in me, as I saw
The face that hovered over me in dream,
When I had slept beneath the low-boughed cedar:
The moon-pale brows, o'er which the clustered hair
Hung like the smoke of torches, ruddy-gold,
Against a canopy of peacock plumes:
The deep brown, burning eyes,