Now!
Her brown hair knew no royal crest,No gems nor jeweled charms,No roses her bright cheek caressed,No lilies kissed her arms.In simple, modest womanhoodClad, as was meet, in white,The fairest flower of all, she stoodAmid the softest light.
It had been worth a perilous questTo see the court she drew,—My rose, my gem, my royal crest,My lily moist with dew;Worth heaven, when, with farewells from eachThe gay throng let us be,To see her turn at last and reachHer white hands out to me.