Elizabeth! Lo, lily-fair,
In deep, cool shadows of thy hair,
Thy face maintaineth its repose.--
Is it, O sister of the rose,
So better, sweeter, blooming thus
Than in this briery world with us?--
Where frost o'ertaketh, and the breath
Of biting winter harrieth
With sleeted rains and blighting snows
All fairest blooms--Elizabeth!