Ii

The sweetness of her face suggests The sensuous scented Jacqueminots; Magnolia blooms her throat and breasts; Her hands, long lilies in repose: Fair flowers all without a stain, That grow for Death to pluck again, Within that garden's radiant close. The body of La belle Heléne; The garden glad that she suggests,-- That Death invests, Ah, belle Heléne.