Page:Carroll - Phantasmagoria and other poems (1869).djvu/197

Rh A child's bright tresses, by the breezes kissed
 * To sweet disorder as she flies,

Veiling beneath a cloud of golden mist
 * Flushed cheek and laughing eyes—

Or fringing like a shadow, raven-black,
 * The glory of a queen-like face—

Or from a gipsy's sunny brow tossed back
 * In wild and wanton grace—

Or crown-like on the hoary head of Age,
 * Whose tale of life is well-nigh told—

Or, last, in dreams I make my pilgrimage
 * To Bethany of old.

I see the feast—the purple and the gold—
 * The gathering crowd of Pharisees,

Whose scornful eyes are centred to behold
 * Yon woman on her knees.