When ’neath the sculptor’s wild embrace,
Life, love, and rapture flushed from stone.
She paused, as if her path to trace
Through the thick mist that boiled on high,
Then turning full her unseen face,
There, there, the same, that lustrous eye,
So fawn-like in its glance and hue
As when he first had met its ray,
Echucha’s self, revealed to view—
She smiled, and shadowy sank away.