Her Raiment was of soft white thistledown,
And two great glowing topazes her eyes,
With depths of dusk, rare as the wondrous dyes
Of Tyre, of Persia-ancient of renown.
Perfect in beauty exquisite, from crown
Of the small head to feet, that, dainty-wise,
Trod, silken-fringed and sandaled; sorceries
Of sweetness hers, that knew nor fret nor frown.
Dear mystic ‘Egypt'! Of how tender wile!
My little comrade of the many years,
Who filled so small a space, and left so wide!
Who won from Sorrow's self a tender smile-
Who paid back love with love that brought no tears,
And never caused a pang-until she died!