Showed gleams of her as marble—fair and cold;
I breathed not—listening to the song she sung.
Hither and thither thro' the solemn world,
Glory of purple, passionate blazing red
Glints thro' the gloom, and thro' the grey is swirled—
Ah! but the leaves twined sweet about her head.
"Heedless—men pass me in their search for life,
Hunting for altars to their souls' fine fires,
Crying the sun or joy of toil and strife
And know not that 'tis I—their heart desires.