The poem
ITS edges foamed with amethyst and rose, Withers once more the old blue flower of day: There where the ether like a diamond glows Its petals fade away.
A shadowy tumult stirs the dusky air; Sparkle the delicate dews, the distant snows; The great deep thrills, for through it everywhere The breath of Beauty blows.
I saw how all the trembling ages past, Moulded to her by deep and deeper breath, Neared to the hour when Beauty breathes her last And knows herself in death.