The blue sky was her canopy;
The flower-gemmed turf, her shrine;
Her incense, deep and fervent love,
Pure from the heart’s rich mine.
Her brow was fair, her eyes were mild,
Her sunny smile was bright:
No discontent its shadow threw
Across her spirit’s light.
Angels their constant vigil kept,
And guarded her from harm;
Breathing around her, while she slept,
A spirit-soothing charm.
But she hath left this guilt-stained earth:
No more her smiles may cheer;
No more her gentle voice of mirth
May breathe its music here.
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Her haunts are desecrated now,
Or desolate and lone;
And Psyche’s palace, where she dwelt,
Has ceased to be her home.