| Daisy and Lily
|
| Lazy and silly
|
| Walk by the shore of the wan grassy sea, —
|
| Talking once more 'neath a swan-
|
| Bosomed tree
|
| Rose castles
|
| Tourelles
|
| Those bustles
|
| Where swells
|
| Each foam-bell of ermine
|
| They roam and determine
|
| What fashions have been and what
|
| Fashions will be, —
|
| What tartan leaves born
|
| What Crinolines worn
|
| By Queen Thetis
|
| Pelisses
|
| Of tarlatine blue
|
| Like the thin Plaided leaves that the
|
| Castle crags grew
|
| Or velours d’Afrande:
|
| On the water-god's land
|
| Her hair seemed gold trees on the
|
| Honey-cell sand
|
| When the thickest gold spangles
|
| On deep water seen
|
| Were like twanging guitar and like
|
| Cold mandoline
|
| And the nymphs of great caves
|
| With hair like gold waves
|
| Of Venus, wore tarlatiine
|
| Louise and Charlottine
|
| (Borea's daughters)
|
| And the nymphs of deep waters
|
| The nymph Taglioni, Grisi the ondine
|
| Wear Plaided Victoria and thin
|
| Clementine
|
| Like the crinolined waterfalls;
|
| Wood-nymphs wear bonnets
|
| Shawls
|
| Elegant parasols
|
| Floating are seen
|
| The Amazones wear balzarine of
|
| Jonquille
|
| Besides the blond lace of a deep-
|
| Falling rill;
|
| Through glades like a nun
|
| They run from and shun
|
| The enormous and gold-rayed
|
| Rustling sun;
|
| And the nymphs of the fountains
|
| Descend from the mountains
|
| Like elegant willows
|
| On their deep barouche pillows
|
| In cashmere Alvandar, barege Isabelle
|
| Like bells of bright water from
|
| Clearest wood-well
|
| Our elegantes favouring
|
| Bonnets of blond
|
| The stars in their apiaries
|
| Sylphs in their aviaries
|
| Seeing them, spangle these
|
| And the sylphs fond
|
| From their aviaries fanned
|
| With each long fluid hand
|
| The manteaux espagnoles
|
| Mimic the waterfalls
|
| Over the long and the light summer land
|
| So Daisy and Lily
|
| Lazy and silly
|
| Walk by the shore of the wan grassy Sea
|
| Talking once more 'neath a swan-
|
| Bosomed tree
|
| Row Castles
|
| Tourelles
|
| Those bustles!
|
| Mourelles
|
| Of their shade in their train follow
|
| Ladies, how vain, — hollow, —
|
| Gone is the sweet swallow, —
|
| Gone, Philomel!" |