Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/215



OW fair you are, wondrous maiden,

As from the aisle I behold you

In the old English cathedral,

Standing so rapt and apart!

Glintings of gold from the stained glass

Brighten the coils of your dark hair

Waving away from a forehead

Pure with the freshness of youth,

And your face flower-like lifted,

With the blue eyes full of worship,

Fairer you seem than the angels

Carved near the altar, in stone.

What though I know not your name, dear,—

Though I to-day first behold you—

You who must pass as a vision

Nobly enthralling and glad?

Does he who, lone in the forest,

Finds there an exquisite blossom,