Robed in a Silken Robe

  Robed in a silken robe that shines and shakes,
  She seems to dance whene'er she treads the sod,
  Like the long serpent that a fakir makes
  Dance to the waving cadence of a rod.

  As the sad sand upon the desert's verge,
  Insensible to mortal grief and strife;
  As the long weeds that float among the surge,
  She folds indifference round her budding life.

  Her eyes are carved of minerals pure and cold,
  And in her strange symbolic nature where
  An angel mingles with the sphinx of old,

  Where all is gold and steel and light and air,
  For ever, like a vain star, unafraid
  Shines the cold hauteur of the sterile maid.