From out her bower of amaranthine hue
She peers with eyes of soft, exquisite blue,
And breathing gently, like a zephyr’s kiss,
Enjoys alone the core of perfect bliss.
Queen of a land, to every mortal given
A glimpse, at least, of what perchance is heaven;
Queen of a land of terror, shame and crime,
From life to death, and all that marketh time.
Queen of a land more wondrous than our own
Sweet Gentian reigns, and sways the realm alone.