To shadow forth the fond imaginings,
That made its very atmosphere a heaven
Of dreamy, rich, voluptuous purity.
An angel bowed before the mercy-seat
Trusts not more purely in the changeless One
To whom his prayer ascendeth, than did she
The proud, bright being whom her deathless love
Had made its idol-god—she could have laid
Her soft white hand in his without one thought
Except of love and trust, and bade him lead