Religions
(to m. b.)
I dreamed we sat—Gabriella, thou and I—
Within thy garden where the roses bloom,
Weaving together at an ancient loom
With beams in profile on a sapphire sky.
We let the roses droop, the lilies die
Unnoticed . . . Each in her appointed room.
We wove a weft of fabulous glint and gloom:
A veil for Truth, whose temple stood hard by.
Thine, Margaret, was purpled o'er with flowers.
And Gabriella's rich with mystic blooth.
But mine transparent as are driven showers.
We rose ... I tore your broideries from the head
And flung my veil across the face of Truth;
I saw her unadorn'd and woke in dread.
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