[SPAM] Ming falls. But ever as I gaze, From slumber soft doth come Some t

Harsh or kind, at last she is Murderess of all ecstasies. Yet the
spirit, dark, alone, Bound in sense, still hearkens on For tidings of a
bliss foregone. Sleep is well for dreamless head, At no breath
astonished, From the Gardens of the Dead. I the immortal harps hear
ring, By Babylon's river languishing. Heavenly Archer, loose thy string.
THE THREE STRANGERS Far are those tranquil hills, Dyed with fair
evening's rose; On urgent, secret errand bent, A traveller goes.
Approach him strangers three, Barefooted, cowled; their eyes Scan the
lone, hastening solitary With dumb surmise. One instant in close speech
With them he doth confer: God-sped, he hasteneth on, That anxious
traveller ... I was that man--in a dream: And each world's night in vain
I patient wait on sleep to unveil Those vivid hills again. Would that
they three could know How yet burns on in me Love--from one lost in
Paradise-- For their grave courtesy. ALEXANDER It was the Great
Alexander, Capped with a golden helm, Sate in the ages, in his floating
ship, In a dead calm. Voices of sea-maids singing Wandered across the
deep: The sa

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