from The Witch of Atlas

All day the Wizard Lady sat aloof;

Spelling out scrolls of dread antiquity

Under the cavern's fountain-lighted roof;

Or broidering the pictured poesy

Of some high tale upon her growing woof,

Which the sweet splendor of her smiles could dye

In hues outshining heaven--and ever she

Added some grace to the wrought poesy:--

                                       -- P. B. Shelley

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