And none might look that way.  It was understood
That He had nearly ended that His work;
For two shapes met, and one to other spake,
Accosting him with, “Prince, what worketh He?”
Who whispered, “Lo!  He fashioneth red clay.” 
And all at once a little trembling stir
Was felt in the earth, and every creature woke,
And laid its head down, listening.  It was known
Then that the work was done; the new-made king
Had risen, and set his feet upon his realm,
And it acknowledged him.

But in her path
Came some one that withstood her, and he said,
“What doest thou here?” Then she did turn and flee,
Among those colored spirits, through the grove,
Trembling for haste; it was not well with her
Till she came forth of those thick banyan-trees,
And set her feet upon the common grass,
And felt the common wind.

Yet once beyond,
She could not choose but cast a backward glance. 
The lovely matted growth stood like a wall,
And means of entering were not evident,—­
The gap had closed.  But Gladys laughed for joy: 
She said, “Remoteness and a multitude
Of years are counted nothing here.  Behold,
To-day I have been in Eden.  O, it blooms
In my own island.”

And she wandered on,
Thinking, until she reached a place of palms,
And all the earth was sandy where she walked,—­
Sandy and dry,—­strewed with papyrus leaves,
Old idols, rings and pottery, painted lids
Of mummies (for perhaps it was the way
That leads to dead old Egypt), and withal
Excellent sunshine cut out sharp and clear
The hot prone pillars, and the carven plinths,—­
Stone lotus cups, with petals dipped in sand,
And wicked gods, and sphinxes bland, who sat
And smiled upon the ruin.  O how still! 
Hot, blank, illuminated with the clear
Stare of an unveiled sky.  The dry stiff leaves
Of palm-trees never rustled, and the soul
Of that dead ancientry was itself dead. 
She was above her ankles in the sand,
When she beheld a rocky road, and, lo! 
It bare in it the ruts of chariot wheels,
Which erst had carried to their pagan prayers
The brown old Pharaohs; for the ruts led on
To a great cliff, that either was a cliff
Or some dread shrine in ruins,—­partly reared
In front of that same cliff, and partly hewn
Or excavate within its heart.  Great heaps
Of sand and stones on either side there lay;
And, as the girl drew on, rose out from each,
As from a ghostly kennel, gods unblest,
Dog-headed, and behind them winged things
Like angels; and this carven multitude
Hedged in, to right and left, the rocky road.