Our way now, brings sunshine upon her spangled hips,
As here she fronts us full, with pose half-frank, half-fierce!
XVI
Words urged in vain, Elvire! You waste your quart and tierce,
Lunge at a phantom here, try fence in fairy-land.
For me, I own defeat, ask but to understand
The acknowledged victory of whom I call my queen,
Sexless and bloodless sprite: though mischievous and mean,
Yet free and flower-like too, with loveliness for law,