Giraffe and Tree

Upon a dark ball spun in Time
Stands a Giraffe beside a Tree:
Of what immortal stuff can that
The fading picture be?

So, thought I, standing by my love
Whose hair, a small black flag,
Broke on the universal air
With proud and lovely brag:

It waved among the silent hills,
A wind of shining ebony
In Time's bright glass, where mirrored clear
Stood the Giraffe beside a Tree.