The sound echoed the valley,
Reflecting off hewned stone and cliff,
Drums and song,“Must be the village”, when caught from the woods,
And from houses, thought a forest celebration,
What and where this rejoice?
But if you looked,
Craning past darting swifts, ever high,
Merge and emerged,In bank of cloud,
Thick bulbous purple velvet,
Saw domes of gold,
Where the birds are going,
This palace in the sky.