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All soft tints of flowers most vernal,
Tints that make each other fade:
In her eyes they are eternal,
Set in some mysterious shade.
Full of dreams are the abysses
Of the night beneath her hair;
But an open dawn of kisses
Is her mouth: O she is fair.
And she has so sweet a fashion
With her languid loving eyes,
That she stirs my soul with passion,
And renews my breath with sighs.
Now she twines her hair in tresses
With some long red lustrous vine;
Now she weaves strange glossy dresses
From the leafy fabrics fine:
And upon her neck there mingle
Corals and quaint serpent charms,
And bright beaded sea-shells jingle
Set in circlets round her arms.
