In Habbanan beneath the skies

Where all roads end however long

There is a sound of faint echoes

And distant echoes of a song,

For there men gather into rings

Round their red fires while one voice sings -

And all about is night



Not night as ours, unhappy folk,

Where nigh the Earth in hazy bars,

A mist about the springing of the stars,

There trails a thin and wandering smoke

Obscuring with its veil half-seen

The great abysmal still Serene



A globe of dark glass faceted with light

Wherein the splendid winds have dusky flight;

Untrodden spaces of an odorous plain

That watches for the moon that long has lain

And caught the meteors' fiery rain -

Such there is night



and caught the meteors' fiery rain

If I am dead and gone, would you remain