So Diana loved the water, loved to comb her Titian hair.
The neighbors talked of nothing but my sister Mary’s taste—
Of vagaries and vanities, and time that went to waste.
But when my sister came at last to claim our protégée,
I was her only confidante, and comfort’s only ray;
I was her only confidante in all the good old town,
And she whispered: “Our Diana never owned a dressing gown;
“Never owned a beaded bodice, never owned a veil of tulle;
“Her gowns are made from sparkles of the waters of a pool;
“And those who cry for draperies, arouse the gods of wrath,