Classic Poem

O LOYAL vestals in this land of sun,
Your white cheeks flush not, and your virgin eyes
Vouchsafe no lifted look. In vain the skies
Are red and pale with passion; swift clouds run
And beckon; warm winds call; long days are done
And nights are spent, and still by no surprise,
No lure can ye be tempted!
O, where lies
The spell by which your gentleness can shun
These heats? Is it your hidden zone of gold?
Or in the emerald whose glimmers show,
Scarce show, beneath your white robes' inner fold?
Vain question! Still your calm bright peace ye hold;
And yet ye set my pulses all aglow
With loyalty like yours to lands of snow.