Athwart the sky a lowly sigh
  From west to east the sweet wind carried;
The sun stood still on Primrose Hill;
  His light in all the city tarried:
The clouds on viewless columns bloomed
Like smouldering lilies unconsumed.

“O sweetheart, see! how shadowy,
  Of some occult magician’s rearing,
Or swung in space of heaven’s grace...