Incipit
They cut it down, and where the pitch-black aisles Of forest night had hid eternal things, They scal’d the sky with tow’rs and marble piles To make a city for their revellings. White and amazing to the lands around That wondrous wealth of domes and turrets rose; Crystal and ivory, sublimely crown’d With pinnacles that bore unmelting snows. And through its halls the pipe and sistrum rang, While wine and riot brought their scarlet stains; Never a voice of elder marvels sang, Nor any eye call’d up the hills and plains. Thus down the years, till on one purple night A drunken minstrel …
239 mots · Poésie · texte intégral sur Wikisource.
Version transcrite — source non identifiée, 1929. (Le numéro dont Wikisource donne le texte ; ce n’est pas toujours la première parution.)
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