Brittle fairy queen of beaut
Whence thine grace will crush
When thy stride beholds
The dust-laden grounds,
They pave to adore your sacred feet
As though thine eyes that pierce thro' souls
And with thy smiles; the pillars of ardour...
But beware that pride enwine not thy heart
Hence despise the eyes that behold thy sight.
Mourn slightly and succomb
To words that pierce thine ears.
For your beauty be in the roses,
Strewn on meadows,
Filled with grace and splendour
Yet steadily fading
In the moulding hands of time.