Appendix A 



C 682 3 



With its flower-bespangled moss 

 Wet by wayward waves that toss 

 Flotsam from the farthest lands 

 Over Zoltoi's shining sands; 

 Still the cold gray cloud above, 

 Sleep-cap of the Pribilof ! 



Now in darkling mist and spray, 

 Let the great globe fade away, 

 {All that is become as naught 

 In the vagrant world of thought) 

 Cast off seven hundred years, 

 With their load of hopes and fears, 

 And a fragrance comes to me, 

 Rose leaves pressed in history, 

 Sweetly strange and strangely sweet; 

 Lady Alice, may it be 

 I am here alone with thee? 

 Let me kneel then, at thy feet. 

 Ghosts from ghosts have naught to fear, 

 White the hand I kiss, my dear! 



Thus I pass thy guarded gate 

 Where thy mailed retainers wait; 

 They will neither know nor care, 

 For I tread with feet of air 

 To thy walls of cold gray stone 

 Where the daylight never shone, 

 Dismal halls that ne'er could be 

 Sun-illumined save by thee! 



I can see thee decked for show 

 In the robes of long ago, 

 Brocades rich as tapestry, 

 Laces, silks, and jewelry 

 All the far-sought finery 

 Men have fancied meet for thee. 

 Roses bloom along thy way, 

 (Thou a fairer rose than they} 

 Pink-tipped daisies from the grass 

 Nod their welcome as you pass; 



