QUEEN OF THE WAX DOLLS
Dusky plume and siroc frown,
Lo the night comes trampling down
O’er thy palaces and town!
Lo! a legion like the stars,
Speeding from their crystal cars,
Leap beyond the sable bars;
How they glittered as they roll’d!
How thy streets are stormed with gold!
Undine! Undine! thou art princess of the parables of old!
TO THE QUEEN OF THE WAX DOLLS
’Twas in the old church yard I told you all,
Beneath the Norway pine;
There, by your mother’s grave, I thought to call
That poor lost mother mine.
I saw you bend above an orphan child
To kiss its winsome face;
This woman, quoth I, is all undefiled,
A miracle of grace.
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