Lay in the lily’s bosom wan.”
—Sheela ni Cullenan.
“The bloom on thy cheek shames the apple’s soft blossom.”
Among the finest and most delicate comparisons, however, is this:
“Like crimson rays of sunset streaming
O’er sunny lilies her bright cheeks shone.”
The fair one’s bosom is declared to be like to the breast of the sailing swan, to the thorn blossoms, to the snow, to the summer cloud, in a variety of beautiful expressions:
“Her bosom’s pearly light
Than summer clouds more bright,
More pure its glow than falling snow