Classic Poem

And I stood ringed about with marble dreams,
Motionless, white, but fashioned of thin shift,
Silvery and lovely. Many a man was there,
In feature perfect, and in posture calm,
And all touched by the wand of harmony,
Speaking from still lips memorable things.
The light was dusk spun by the wizard hand
Of evening from her distaff; and the air attuned
With notes that lute-string never bare, nor viol
Rendered to ease its heart. And thro' the land
Swept the slow measure of a solemn wind,
Laden with infinite murmurs, where the sea
In voice distant and rhythmic told of powers
Coiled in eternal slumber; far away
Mounted and fell beneath the stooping heaven
The hills, cadenced, subdued or sweetly plane,
Yet most majestic, tempered with the soul
Of age, nature, infinitude and sleep.
And set alone in azure, like a tear
Fallen in the veil of evening, silver pure,