Gleam on gleam in the veilèd dawn
The feet of the Gods are but half withdrawn;
The Colour fringes their garments' hem,
And the stones of the desert remember them.

Where the white mists enfold each hill
Lingers their brooding presence still;
Still, though the glory of Thebes be done,
The twin Colossi salute the sun.

Lure on lure at the break of morn
The earth lies fair as the earth was born,
And the old Gods walk in the mist and the dew
Of an ancient splendour for ever new.