"The Unknown City"

There lies a city inaccessible,Where the dead dreamers dwell.

Abrupt and blue, with many a high ravineAnd soaring bridge half seen.With many an iris cloud that comes and goesOver the ancient snows,The imminent hills environ it, and holdIts portals from of old,That grief invade not, weariness, nor war,Nor anguish evermore.

White-walled and jettied on the peacock tide,With domes and towers enskied,Its battlements and balconies one sheenOf ever-living green,It hears the happy dreamers turning homeSlow-oared across the foam.

Cool are its streets with waters musicalAnd fountains' shadowy fall.With orange and anemone and rose,And every flower that blowsOf magic scent or unimagined dye,Its gardens shine and sigh.Its chambers, memoried with old romanceAnd faëry circumstance,--From any window love may lean some timeFor love that dares to climb.

This is that city babe and seer divinedWith pure, believing mind.This is the home of unachieved emprize.Here, here the visioned eyesOf them that dream past any power to do,Wake to the dream come true.Here the high failure, not the level fame,Attests the spirit's aim.Here is fulfilled each hope that soared and soughtBeyond the bournes of thought.

The obdurate marble yields; the canvas glows;Perfect the column grows;The chorded cadence art could ne'er attainCrowns the imperfect strain;And the great song that seemed to die unsungTriumphs upon the tongue.