Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/316

Rh

A something shadowy and frail Was even in her mirth; She look'd a flower that one rough gale Would bear away from earth.

There was too clear and blue a light Within her radiant eyes; They were too beautiful, too bright, Too like their native skies: Too changeable the rose which shed Its colour on her face, Now burning with a passionate red, Now with just one faint trace.

She was too thoughtful for her years, Its shell the spirit wore;