More gorgeous citadels than man can build,
Can build, or plan, bolder in sheer design
Than all his most advanced ideas could be,
Yet more ethereal, with rich light filled
They rise, tier upon tier, and glow and shine
Towering above the amethystian sea.
What oriental domes so rich a gild
Can flaunt? Where can such minarets divine
Be found in all such prodigality
Amongst the works of man however skilled?
They fade and change, these clouds that float in space,
Shot through with copper tints that, trembling, die;
Leaving a memory on the twilit sky
The very form and texture of God’s face!