"The winter sunset, flaming beyond spires And chimneys half-detached from this dull sphere, Opens great gates to some forgotten year Of elder splendours and divine desires. Expectant wonders burn in those rich fires, Adventure-fraught, and not untinged with fear; A row of sphinxes where the way leads clear Toward walls and turrets quivering to far lyres. It is the land where beauty's meaning flowers, Where every unplaced memory has a source, Where the great river Time begins its course Down the vast void in starlit streams of hours.