For Cupid, to Lily Adair—
To my Dove-like Lily Adair—
To my lamb-like Lily Adair—
To my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
III.
Where the Opaline Swan circled, singing,
With her eider-down Cygnets at noon,
In the tall Jasper Eeeds that were springing
From the marge of the crystal Lagoon—
Rich Canticles, clarion-like, golden,
Such as only true love can declare,
Like an Archangel's voice in times olden—
I went with my Lily Adair—
With my lamb-like Lily Adair—
With my saint-like Lily Adair—
With my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
IV.
Her eyes, lily-lidded, were azure,
Cerulean, celestial, divine—
Suffused with the soul-light of pleasure.
Which drew all the soul out of mine.
She had all the rich grace of the Graces,
And all that they had not to spare;
For it took all their beautiful faces
To make one for Lily Adair—
For my Christ-like Lily Adair—
For my Heaven-born Lily Adair—
For my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
V.
She was fairer by far than that Maiden,
The star-bright Cassiope,
Who was taken by angels to Aiden,
And crowned with eternity.
