There's not a gossamer or beaver
But what is waving to receive her.
Her dress was satin rich and rare,
A silver tissue, neat but splendid,—
The sleeves were short; and from the hair
Two matchless brilliants were suspended.
A riband o'er her shoulder hung,
Of costly jewels was the border;
To which with graceful ease was slung
The star that marks the Garter's Order.