Classic Poem

On my hangings of arras
Dewdrop and sunlight commingle,
The music of woods that are endless,
And infinite seas
That come with the voices
Of storm or of calm to the shingle
In the lilac grey blush of the dawn,
On the sensuous breeze.

So full of promise is earth
As a child's gentle laughter,
The sapphire tints of the water
Are fair to the eyes—
The present is only,
I know not a past nor hereafter,
And forth from my covering
Of saffron and ermine I rise.