The window is wide and lo! beyond its bars

dim fields of fading stars

and cavern tracts, whence the great store of tears

that Beauty all the years

hath wept in wanderings of the eyeless dark,

remembering the long cark

whereunder we, her care, are silent bow’d,

invades with numbing shroud

this dwindling realm of listless avatars.

Dim fields of fading stars,

and shall yet ye with amaranth rapture burn

and maiden grace return

sprung soft and sudden on the fainting night,

rose passioning to white;

or must our task remain and hopeless art

that sickeneth the heart

from yon dull embers to evoke the ghost

of the first garden lost,

sad necromancers we? Then let the blast,

that waked you ancient, cast

into the deeps your useless lagging dearth,

O blazon’d shame of Earth,

who then might hail the last oblivion,

knowing you doomward blown

before the advance of night’s relentless cars,

dim fields of fading stars!