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VIRGIN art thou and pure, amid a throng

Of such sweet hallowed names as all men praise.

(Grown all too scant in these our latter days!)

To holy hours of old dost thou belong;

Saint Agnès then had heard thine even-song,

Nor left thee, darkling, in Earth’s devious ways.

Thou’rt one with that sweet sisterhood which raise

To “untouched Dian,” all clear streams along,

Their full-voiced anthem. Thou a Vestal art

At true-love’s altar. Atala, and the Maid,

And Mary all are sisters of thy blood!

Thy very name is virgin!... I, afraid,

How shall I press my kisses on thy heart,

Or loose the girdle of thy maidenhood?...