WHEN first I heard thy soft, quaint, Gallian name,
I pictured thee before my dreaming eyes
In some such lovely shape as sudden came
With sound of syllables in Gascon guise.
But when I saw thee first, —when first thy mouth,
Yielding its rosy curves in amorous smile,
Revealed the vagrant dimples ambushed there, —
The vision I had conjured erst awhile
Was lost in mortal form so laughing-fair
That it might symbolize the Mænad South:
A glowing maiden with disheveled hair
Fleeing a low, white forehead, shading eyes
Within whose depths the warmth of summer lies,
Steeped in the melting blue of Garonne skies!
W. L. Brigham.