Gorias

In Gorias are gems,

And pale gold,

Shining diadems

Gathered of old

From the long fragrant hair

Of dead beautiful queens.

There the reaper gleans

Vast opals of white air:

The dawn leans

Upon emerald there:

Out of the dust of kings

The sunrise lifts a cloud of shimmering wings.

In Gorias of the East

My love was born,

Erias dowered with a sword

And the treasures of the Morn --

But now all the red gems

And the pale gold

Are as the trampled diadems

Of the queens of old

In Gorias the pale-gold.

Have I once heard the least,

But the least breath, again?

No: my love is no more fain

Of Gorias of the East.

Erias hath sheathed this sword

Long, long ago.

My heart is old...

Though in Gorias are gems

And pale gold.