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Fans, like a dragon's wing unfurled, The surface of my yearnings deep; And solemn shadows then awake, Like the fish-lizard in the lake, Troubling a planet's morning sleep. My waking is a Titan's dream, Where a strange sun, long set, doth beam Through Montezuma's cypress bough: Through the fern wilderness forlorn Glisten the giant harts' great horn, And serpents vast with helmed brow. The measureless from caverns rise With steps of earthquake, thunderous cries, And graze upon the lofty wood; The palmy grove, through which doth gleam Such antediluvian ocean's stream, Haunts shadowy my domestic mood. * * * Back Home |