Margérie!
That flowed from shoulder to ankle down,
With clear blue shadows along it thrown;
C’est ça Sainte Margérie!
On back and bosom withouten braid,—
Margérie!
In crisped glory of darkling red,
Round creamy temples her hair was shed;—
C’est ça Sainte Margérie!
Eyes like a dim sea, viewed from far,—