“I have the flaunting air, she said,
Laughing remorse away
For vanities that now are dead,
Dear follies of a day.

Like a great golden ship she rode,
Capricious at her ease,
Spreading a sail to catch the mode
Of every idle breeze.

A dancing cloak she wore above
Her pale serenity:
O lamp of faith, O light o' love,
Which was more dear to me?”