Rhymes for Gloriana - IV. In Praise of Gloriana's Remarkable Golden Hair
The gleaming head of one fine friend Is bent above my little song, So through the treasure-pits of Heaven In fancy's shoes, I march along. I wander, seek and peer and ponder In Splendor's last ensnaring lair - 'Mid burnished harps and burnished crowns Where noble chariots gleam and flare: Amid the spirit-coins and gems, The plates and cups and helms of fire - The gorgeous-treasure-pits of Heaven - Where angel-misers slake desire! O endless treasure-pits of gold Where silly angel-men make mirth - I think that I am there this hour, Though walking in the ways of earth!
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"The gleaming head of one fine friend..."
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