 | Imaginary Sonnets |  |
I.
The alchemy of Sunrise makes pure gold
Of all the sullen bars of cloudy lead,
While round the heaven's crucible leaps red
The morning's flame that kindles wood and wold,
Of all the sullen bars of cloudy lead,
While round the heaven's crucible leaps red
The morning's flame that kindles wood and wold,
Converting all the dew-drops gray and cold
To rubies, on the branches overhead,
And strewing opals on the moss instead
Of the dull beads that from night's robe had rolled.
To rubies, on the branches overhead,
And strewing opals on the moss instead
Of the dull beads that from night's robe had rolled.
Such transmutation has thy beauty wrought
On all the baser elements that lay
In the cold twilight of my life and thought;
On all the baser elements that lay
In the cold twilight of my life and thought;
Whatever in my soul was dull and gray,
Now sparkles like the dew-drops that have caught,
Bead after bead, the sun's first kindling ray.
Now sparkles like the dew-drops that have caught,
Bead after bead, the sun's first kindling ray.
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