LILY ADAIR.
I.
The Apollo Belvidere was adorning
The Chamber where Eulalie lay,
While Aurora, tho Rose of the Morning,
Smiled full in the face of the Day.
All around stood the beautiful Graces
Bathing Venus—some combing her hair—
While she lay in her husband's embraces[1]
A-moulding my Lily Adair—
Of my Fawn-like Lily Adair—
Of my Dove-like Lily Adair—
Of my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
II.
Where the Oreads played in the Highlands,
And the Water-Nymphs bathed in the streams,
In the tall Jasper Reeds of the Islands—
She wandered in life's cearly dreams.
For the Wood-Nymphs then brought from the Wildwood
The turtle Doves Venus kept there,
Which the Dryades tamed, in his childhood,
For Cupid, to Lily Adair—
To my Dove-like Lily Adair—
To my lamb-like Lily Adair—
To my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
III.
Where the Opaline Swan circled, singing,
With her eider-down Cygnets at noon,
In the tall Jasper Eeeds that were springing
From the marge of the crystal Lagoon—
Rich Canticles, clarion-like, golden,
Such as only true love can declare,
Like an Archangel's voice in times olden—
I went with my Lily Adair—
With my lamb-like Lily Adair—
With my saint-like Lily Adair—
With my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
IV.
Her eyes, lily-lidded, were azure,
Cerulean, celestial, divine—
Suffused with the soul-light of pleasure.
Which drew all the soul out of mine.
She had all the rich grace of the Graces,
And all that they had not to spare;
For it took all their beautiful faces
To make one for Lily Adair—
For my Christ-like Lily Adair—
For my Heaven-born Lily Adair—
For my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
V.
She was fairer by far than that Maiden,
The star-bright Cassiope,
Who was taken by angels to Aiden,
And crowned with eternity.
For her beauty the Sea-Nymphs offended,
Because so surpassingly fair;
And so death then the precious life ended
Of my beautiful Lily Adair—
Of my Heaven-born Lily Adair—
Of my star-crowned Lily Adair—
Of my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
VI.
From her Paradise-Isles in the ocean,
To the beautiful City of On,
By the mellifluent rivers of Goshen,
My beautiful Lily is gone!
In her Chariot of Fire translated,
Like Elijah, she passed through the air,
To the City of God golden-gated—
The Home of my Lily Adair—
Of my star-crowned Lily Adair—
Of my God-loved Lily Adair—
Of my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
VII.
On the vista-path made by the Angels,
In her Chariot of Fire, she rode,
While the Cherubim sang their Evangels—
To the Gates of the City of God.
For the Cherubim-band that went with her,
I saw them pass out of the air—
I saw them go up through the ether
Into Heaven with my Lily Adair—
With my Christ-like Lily Adair—
With my God-loved Lily Adair—
With my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
- ↑ It was a beautiful Idea of the Greeks that the procreation of beautiful children might be promoted by keeping in their sleeping apartments an Apollo or Hyacinthus. In this way they not only patronised Art, but begat a likeness of their own love.