Skies of verd-antique
Domed the murex-tinted peak
In the dreamland where I found
Flowering grape that clasped and crowned
One fluted column still unbroken,
Lovely, old and Greek.

II

Near the column,
In the stream that flowed
From the sunset mountain-spring,
I heard the lonely naiad sing,
Praising the weedy bowers of her abode.
Sweeter than silence was her song,
Sweeter than sleep her answer
When I spoke:
Quickly then her cold arms wound me
In the water, and they drowned me
Ere I woke.