A stained-glass window overhangs my stairs
At the first landing—miniature and plain—
The glass of sea-green, blue, and orange stain.
(Your builder ventures as no artist dares!)
But that small window takes me unawares
With fine effects of light time and again.
Sometimes it brings back some sweet organ-strain;
Sometimes the mingled color quite ensnares
Imagination. Late last night I stood
In the enchantment of its moonlit glow.
A casement high and triple arched I could
Discern and hear a yearning clarion blow,
And Madeline in visioned saintlihood
Awoke from balmy sleep to Porphyro.