| 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 winged odor went away | 
| Wanderers in that happy valley | 
| Through two luminous windows, saw | 
| Spirits moving musically | 
| To a lute’s well-tuned 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 |