Rêve Parisian

The memory of this dread demesne Unknown, unsought by mortal eyes, That morning, like some glad surprise, Returns insistent, dimly seen. What marvels fill the gulf of sleep By some bizarre caprice From all my dream the grass, the trees, Are banished in the oblivious deep! And I, tho' sculptor of a world Of superbly tasteful monotone Of metal, water, metal, flame, and stone At mine enchanted will unfurled! Babel of stairs and of arcades, There stands a palace infinite, Where fountains fall in chrysolite On the dull gold of long estrades; And from the ramparts far and high, Enormous cataracts have sprung, Like heavy crystal curtains hung On the huge walls within the sky. No blooms nor bower, but pools enchanted Where lies the columns' mirrored frieze— By the titanic naiades Of pale and marble haunted. Blue waters endlessly are whirled Between the quays of malachite, And quays of rose that stretch for light A thousand leagues athwart the world— A world of magic mineral; And magic billow! Shore and sea In dazzling cold immensity, Redoubling and reflecting all! An architect of Faëry I make, with runes softly murmured, A cavern wrought of rubacelle That passes neath the conquered sea. And all things, pale or sable, shine Like furbished armour; flaming spaces Of land a flaming gulf enchases, Immured in splendour crystalline. No star has passed, no sun has flown To climb the adamantine skies, Illuming these prodigies That burn with lazy beams all their own! And on this form of grammerie In even beat lies (O! dread demesne Where naught is heard, and all is seen!) The silence of eternity. In silence frozen the vault beyond Great rivers negligently turn The treasure of teeming urn Adown the gulfs of diamond, With funereal slow, the pendulum Brutally sounds the hour of noon, And heaven pours the night too soon On the sad world forlorn and numb, Opening eyes replete with fire, Once in my sunless room again, And feel re-entering in my brain The fang of cares accursed and dire.