Book 3 — Eve's Daughter.

I waited in the little sunny room: The cool breeze waved the window-lace, at play, The white rose on the porch was all in bloom, And out upon the bay I watched the wheeling sea-birds go and come. "Such an old friend,—she would not make me stay While she bound up her hair." I turned, and lo, Danaë in her shower! and fit to slay All a man's hoarded prudence at a blow: Gold hair, that streamed away As round some nymph a sunlit fountain's flow. "She would not make me wait!"—but well I know She took a good half-hour to loose and lay Those locks in dazzling disarrangement so!