For ’neath that polished painted mask of seeming deadened Love
I know some poignant passion must course in sinuous stream
Plashing with crystal foam in lustrous realms above,
From a sea, where the gods’ romances are woven in wondrous dream.
Bridget unmask! speak to me, awake, and radiant rise!
Phœnix-inspired flying from former fires into cerulean skies!
Though still wrapped in the scented cerements of the mummy I thought was you
I would gaze on the risen Bridget, as a being both real and true;
Nothing strange or new—just true.
In the place of a ghost of a woman, whose self I never knew