Purple and exquisite scarlet, all inwrought
To one pure hue too vivid to behold.
So as it nearer swept I threw
My face upon the dust, and thrust my eyes
Upon my veiling palms, dizzy to death,
Sick with amaze; when a most mellow breath
Softly outspake,
“Frail child of Man, arise!
For I would speak with thee!”
No choice had I