In Praise Of Gloriana’s Remarkable Golden Hair [Rhyme For Gloriana]
by
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!