bowed,
And Ariel fancies served their large desire;

They spake, and roused the mused soul that dwells
In dust, or, smiling, shaped new heavens and
hells,
Dethroned old gods and made blind beggars kings:
"And what art thou," I cried to one, "that brings
His mistress, for a brooch, the Galaxy?"--
"I am the plumed Thought that soars and sings:
Lo, I am Song; I bid thee follow me!"

The Hours passed by, with veiled eyes endowed
Of dream, and parted lips that scarce suspire,
To breathing dusk and arrowy moonlight vowed,
South wind and shadowy grove and murmuring
lyre;--
Swaying they moved, as drows'd of wizard spells
Or tranc'd with sight of recent miracles,
And yet they trembled, down their folded wings
Quivered the hint of sweet withholden things,
Ah, bitter-sweet in their intensity!
One paused and said unto my wonderings:
"Lo, I am Love; I bid thee follow me!"

The Hours passed by, through huddled cities loud
With witless hate and stale with stinking mire:

So cowled monks might march with bier and shroud
Down streets plague-spotted toward some cleans-