VI.
MY “DUCHESS”
I
They call thee “Duchess.” Calm and proud
And cold, and full of high disdain,
Thou movest, starlike, through the crowd
Who scoff, and scoff in vain.
II
They know not, these, poor soulless clods
Whose vulgar touch and glance degrade,
That sovereign sweetness brings a God's
Most sovereign arm to aid.
III
They know not that the “Duchess”' power
From her own jewel of pureness springs;
That, while her lips are like a flower,
Her chainless soul has wings.
IV
Be “Duchess” ever—brave and strong,
Most cold to all unworthy of thee;
And charm the myriads with thy song,
But with thy kiss charm me!
