With blushing flowers, fresh and glittering yet
With diamond rain-drops. On the crimson ground
A shining volume, clasp'd with gold and jet,
And broken petals of a passion-flower
Lay by the lady of this silent bower.
Her rippling hair fell from her pearly round
That strove to clasp its billowy curls: the light
Hung like a glory on their waves of gold.
Her velvet robe, in many a violet fold,
Like the dark pansy's downy leaf, was bound