In thy blue pallid gown that shimmereth So pale thou standest in the wan moonlight, Where the gold censer near thy body white Wraps thee around with its perfumed breath;
So wan thy high tiara glimmereth Above thy mystical far eyes of light, Thou seemest some dead goddess of the night, O starry love, O changeless Ashtoreth.
Pallid thou standest in thy divinity, Like some moon-idol of the buried time, Before whose face priests sing in solemn chime.
So I prostrate before thy deity, Unto thy face have solemn praises sung, And in my hands a golden censer swung.