Page:Shelley The Daemon of the World.djvu/31

 Towering like rocks of jet Above the burning deep: And yet there is a moment When the sun's highest point Peers like a star o'er ocean's western edge, When those far clouds of feathery purple gleam Like fairy lands girt by some heavenly sea: Then has thy rapt imagination soared Where in the midst of all existing things The temple of the mightiest Dæmon stands.

Yet not the golden islands That gleam amid yon flood of purple light, Nor the feathery curtains That canopy the sun's resplendent couch, Nor the burnished ocean waves Paving that gorgeous dome. So fair, so wonderful a sight As the eternal temple could afford. The elements of all that human thought