Across the willow-lake a temple shines, Pale, through the lotus-girdled isle of pines, And twilight listens to the drip of oars -- The coming of dark boats with scented stores Of orange seed; the mist leans from the hill, While palm leaves sway 'twixt wind and water chill, And waves of smoke like phantoms rise and fade Into a trembling tangle of green jade. I dream strange dreams within my tower room, Dreams from the glimmering realms of even gloom; Until each princely guest doth, landing, raise His eyes, upon the full-orbed moon to gaze -- The old moon-palace that in ocean stands Mid clouds of thistle-down and jewelled strands. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY: BOOK 3 by ANICIUS MANLIUS SEVERINUS BOETHIUS HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 10 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH A VERSE ON HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY by ROBERT BURNS SPRING FANTASIES: 2. THE SPRING RETURNS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE BLEAK OF THE YEAR by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |