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PERDITA
She is beautiful yet, with her wondrous hair
And eyes that are stormy with fitful light,
The delicate hues of brow and cheek
Are unmarred all, rose-clear and bright;
That matchless frame yet holds at bay
The crouching bloodhounds, Remorse, Decay.
There is no fear in her great dark eyes —
No hope, no love, no care,
Stately and proud she looks around
With a fierce, defiant stare;
Wild words deform her reckless speech,
Her laugh has a sadness tears never reach.
Whom should she fear on earth? Can fate
One direr torment lend
To her few little years of glitter and gloom
With the sad old story to end,
When the spectres of Loneliness, Want, and Pain
Shall arise one night with Death in their train?.....
