The Haunted Palace

In the greenest of our valleys   By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace—   Radiant palace—reared its head. In the monarch Thought’s 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 wingëd odor went away. Wanderers in that happy valley   Through two luminous windows saw Spirits moving musically,   To a lute’s well-tunëd law, Round about a throne where, sitting,   Porphyrogene, 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 monarch’s 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.