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They cut it down, and where the pitch-black aisles<br />
Of forest night had hid eternal things,<br />
They scaled the sky with towers and marble piles<br />
To make a city for their revellings.<br />
<br />
White and amazing to the lands around<br />
That wondrous wealth of domes and turrets rose;<br />
Crystal and ivory, sublimely crowned<br />
With pinnacles that bore unmelting snows.<br />
<br />
And through its halls the pipe and sistrum rang,<br />
While wine and riot brought their scarlet stains;<br />
Never a voice of elder marvels sang,<br />
Nor any eye called up the hills and plains.<br />
<br />
Thus down the years, till on one purple night<br />
A drunken minstrel in his careless verse<br />
Spoke the vile words that should not see the light,<br />
And stirred the shadows of an ancient curse.<br />
<br />
Forests may fall, but not the dusk they shield;<br />
So on the spot where that proud city stood,<br />
The shuddering dawn no single stone revealed,<br />
But fled the blackness of a primal wood. - Avg. rating:
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