In a gold and purple room,
With strange shadows softly flitting
Through the champed gloom-
There is indolently sitting
A little dark-eyed maid
In a strangely carven chair
At a table wrought of jade,
With her fingers in her hair.
And a jasper dragon's claw
Holds a gleaming crystal sphere,
Where did misty vapours are
Which continually veer;
Till the maiden gently sighs
As her eyes of amethyst
See fantastic forms arise
Through the ever shifting mist...
And the atmosphere grows denser
With the fumes that downward curl
From the silver swinging censer
To the silent watching girl;
And though night but slowly passes,
When the first shy sunbeams stare
Through the windows' colored glasses,
They will find her sitting there..
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