Twilight is blue for seven weeks
Upon its borders, and beyond
Pure darkness splits to dagger-peaks
Of flawed and shivered diamond.

Between slim hills the atmosphere
Swims cold as wine in silver jugs;
The summers live minute and clear,
Coloured like Persian praying-rugs.

She whirls above this circumscribed
And patterned carpet, with a pair
Of tame attendant pigeons, bribed
By corn as yellow as her hair.