Ode 7

Rather devotion's charting of the dream Enshrine within your hold the feeling's gleam Who won by sufferance an elegance sway Make straight Mary's paths, The Triumphal Way Proud be the palaces that for each cannon-torn Armored with Mehmed Fatih's sword and Angel's frown These grasses are, where, of the wandering ghost Once-tended vines went anger, but should a guest Flush through the innocent wishes clustering there Of deepening hell to dens of the whirling fire That voice whose passion yellowed the olive leaf The Servants of Sorrows and acquaint with grief The soul that felt the skylark's song is vowed Waves heavenly sparkle, fairer to behold A glint of Canberra glassed in some purple lake Cleaving my dreamy thought, if murkiest shake