Etude Romantique

White, white, your beauty is, White, white as Artemis When thru her draperies, Her lovers her face discern;

White as the tapers there (Pale ghosts, with yellow hair Borne on the evening air) When thru a dim mist they burn;

White as a sail that dips Seas with great, laughing lips, Seas whence tall, rakish ships Never return.