A WONDER she!
Of grace assigned to be
My fond amazement and my Mystery.

With longing sought,
Hither by angels brought,
And lodged, all lonely, in my highest thought.

Not any star
Foreran her from afar,
Nor rode she thronèd in a moonlight car.

Nor sheeted white,
An eerie, awesome sprite,
Confronted she my soul, on guard at night.

No pinions hers,
Nor such a flight as stirs
The topmost cones of midnight's solemn firs,

Of Earth or Air
That face serenely fair,
Coif'd in the dusky hoodings of her hair?

A form foretold
In Phryne's matchless mold,
Veiled in the twilight of an Age of Gold;

A shape to glance
Athwart the fitful trance
Of seers, from the aisles of old Romance.

All rainbowed things,
All glad imaginings,
Brought she, as Joy bears music on his wings.

What spells surprise
The Lotos-eater's eyes,
Or take his ear with Hourian harmonies—

Strains that, in rime,
The bells of memory chime,
Like songs of Home heard in an alien clime.

Whate'er can keep
Cold from the heart, or steep
In silken solace the wide cloak of Sleep.

Content, success;
Praise, peace, and pleasantness;
Friendship's true grasp, and Love's unwronged caress.