“Golden and green and blue Is the screen of the Empress’ throne; Golden and green and blue And the black of ebony.
Green and blue are the peacocks’ plumes Standing to right and left; Golden and blue and green the silk Of the high-swung canopy. Wide and deep is the Empress’ throne Of carven, ebony, With its straight footstool And its peacocks’ fans And its shadowing mystery. . . . . . . . . . Brown is the slope of the dust-blown hill And brown the dust-blown plain; Grey are the guarding dogs of stone And grey the sentinels.
Grey are the carven shapes that lead To a carven sepulchre, Grey is the broken balustrade And grey the heavy walls.
Wide and deep is the Empress’ throne On that hillside far away, With its carven dogs And its sentinels And its mighty door of grey.”