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Poem	A gallant city has been builded far In the pied heaven, Bannered with crimson, sentinelled by star Of crystal even; Around a harbor of the twilight glowing, With jubilant waves about its gateways flowing A city of the Land of Lost Delight, On seas enchanted, Presently to be lost in mist moon-white And music-haunted; Given but briefly to our raptured vision, With all its opal towers and shrines elysian. Had we some mystic boat with pearly oar And wizard pilot, To guide us safely by the siren shore And cloudy islet, We might embark and reach that shining portal Beyond which linger dreams and joys immortal. But we may only gaze with longing eyes On those far, sparkling Palaces in the fairy-peopled skies, O'er waters darkling, Until the winds of night come shoreward roaming, And the dim west has only gray and gloaming.
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