On the free breeze I give my fancy wings,
And in a sudden shrine
Your image throned appears, while the wind swings
Its sea-incense divine.
Breathless I worship in the waiting night
The sparkling eyes, that sometimes seem all light,
The cheek so purely pale,
The sacred breast, than whitest dress more white,
Where whitest thought must fail.
Thin arms, with dimpled shadows here and there,