A Green Arcade

My spirit revelled in a green arcade
And felt the motion and the bloom of flowers, —
The feathery cool despondence of the shade,
The joy of rivulets in summer showers,
And the inner sense of passion's secret bowers:
And then there came a maiden and she said,
" I dwell beyond the immortal blue-tipped towers
And valleys tenanted by the extreme dead
Where the perpetual swift sun's rays are red,
And, long before the mystery of birth,
These eyes that shine like emeralds in my head
Flashed upon thine with laughter and quick mirth; —
Before thy first infantine whisper fell,
I was thine immemorial Isobelle. "
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