University of Virginia Library

Within the Veil.

She holds a lily in her hand,
Where long ranks of Angels stand;
A silver lily for her wand.
All her hair falls sweeping down,
Her hair that is a golden brown;
A crown beneath her golden crown.
Blooms a rose-bush at her knee,
Good to smell and good to see;
It bears a rose for her, for me:
Her rose a blossom richly grown,
My rose a bud not fully blown
But sure one day to be mine own.