Her own divinity had mode divine.
And with a halo from her heart she crowned it,
That shed a spirit-light upon its face,
And garlands hung of soul-flowers fondly round it,
Wreathing its beauty with immortal grace,
And so she felt not, as she gazed, how cold
And calm that Eidolon of marble mould.
Like Egypt’s queen in her imperial play,
She, in abandonment more wildly sweet,
Melted the pearl of her pure Life away,