MY LADY OF THE VIOLETS

MY Lady of the Violets Is pearl-and-ivory white; She walks across the fields of day As stars that tread the night; Her wistful lips are tremulous As leaves in autumn plight. My Lady of the Violets Has sorrowful cold eyes, And ever in their shadow rests A fathomless surprise, As they would ask from Time and Death The secret of the skies. My Lady of the Violets Has aureoled gold hair, So like unto the pictured saints The dim cathedrals wear; But, oh, that she were woman-sweet, Though she were not so fair!