Angelora

Dewy heart of Angelora!
     Very meyry ‘neath the slender,
Tender pale ??? o’er her,
     How her laughter, like a zephyr
Ever ripples the white glory 
Of her dreaming spirit-story,
     As she dreams on in a crimson
Mellow-lit phantasmagora.

In among her orient tresses
     Holy moly, by god Hermes 
Firm is woren, that she presses 
     Fearless forth and disenchanting
Vaunting glory's sorceresses.
And the heart that sees her, blesses, 
     Angelora, knelt before her 
In mellifluous wildernesses.

With the morning's Phebean yellow
     Finer shine her locks of downy, 
Browny amber, than the mellow 
     Mystery of argent fringes
Tinges the moon-bathing, callow 
Cloudlets, that in autumn sallow 
     Are seen nestling in the wrestling 
Arms of zephyr's rosy fellow.

Angel-dreamer, ever dreaming!
     Nearer, clearer the fantastic 
Plastic soul of other seeming,
     Glowed on her the sorrow-laden 
Maiden, struck aghast with gleaming 
Lightning-bolts, her love redeeming;
     Fearful flashes that in ashes
Wreck her fount of gladness streaming.

Then alone in Mahmoud's chamber, 
     Faintly, saintly Angelora
Tore her clustered locks of amber,
     Pale captivity adorning,
Scorning glory's bright Alhambra 
(Whither meaner souls might clamber)
     For the choosing of deep musing
O'er the Fathomless and Somber.

Brooding o'er the pale abysmal 
     Passive, as I've seen a lovely
Dove lie o'er a storm-cloud dismal 
     Blue-hung in the blue, serenely 
Queenly ‘Lora in the chrismal 
Sorrow-droppings of baptismal 
     Sanctifying, stoops her dying
Forehead to the wrath of Ismail.