SHE is more sparkling beautiful
Than dawn-light seen thro’ tears
The weeping worlds of Paradise
Shed down upon the spheres.
Her eyes are bright and passionate
With love’s immortal flame—
The flowers of a wildwood tree
In petals write her name.
Her breath of life ’s so wondrous sweet
The bees halt, in amaze,
Their streaming honey-laden fleet
Above the meadow ways;
And every little singing thing
Atween the breasted hill
And God’s high-vaulted cloistering
Upraises with a will
Paeans of laud, and cheery chaunts
Of her, who now is mine—
Queen-Angel of angelic haunts
Thro’ months of mead and wine.