 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
Lap of Her wimple lifting the Winds breath;
Revealed locks, shining as the harvest-sheaf.
Mingled with sunbeams, falling on her nape.
Her twin bent brows, in that She turned a moment,
Her cóuntenance; were líke to that bow, conjoined,
Of Amaltheas horns; set midst the stars:
Her eyes seemed crystal wells; and their glance was
Fúll of undying light and deathless gladness.
Revealed locks, shining as the harvest-sheaf.
Mingled with sunbeams, falling on her nape.
Her twin bent brows, in that She turned a moment,
Her cóuntenance; were líke to that bow, conjoined,
Of Amaltheas horns; set midst the stars:
Her eyes seemed crystal wells; and their glance was
Fúll of undying light and deathless gladness.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |