I stood beside a pool, from whence ascended,
Mounting the platforms of the cloudy wind,
A stately hern—its soaring I attended,
Till it grew dim, and I with watching blind—
When, lo! a shaft of arrowy light descended
Upon its darkness and its dim attire:
It straightway kindled then, and was afire,
And with the unconsuming radiance blended.
A bird, a cloud, flecking the sunny air,
It had its golden dwelling mid the lightning
Of those empyreal domes, and it might there
Have dwelt for ever, glorified and brightning,
But that its wings were weak—so it became
A dusky speck again, that was a wingèd flame.