The Wayback Machine -







In the greenest of our valleys
   By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace
   Radiant palace reared its head.
In the monarch Thoughs dominion
   It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
  Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
   On its roof did float and flow,
(This all this was in the olden
   Time long ago,)
And every gentle air that dallied,
    In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
   A wing�d odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
    Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
   To a lutes well‑tun�d law,
Round about a throne where, sitting,
In state his glory well befitting,
    The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
    Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
    And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
   Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
    The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
     Assailed the monarchs high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn! for never morrow
     Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
     That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim‑remembered story
   Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
     Through the red‑litten windows see
Vast forms that move fantastically
    To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
    Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
    And laugh but smile no more.