40 
THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. 
Oh, fragrant the breeze is that stirs 
 The grasses around us that lean ! 
Oh, sweet is the whisper that purrs 
From those wonderful lips that are hers, 
 From the passionate lips of a queen. 
 
A queen is my lover, I say, 
 With a crown of the lilies of light— 
For a maiden they crowned her in May, 
For the Queen of the Daughters of Day 
 That are flowers of the forest of Night. 
 
They crowned her with lilies and blue, 
 They crowned her with yellow and roses, 
They gave her a sceptre of rue, 
And a girdle of laurel and yew, 
 And a basket of pansies in posies. 
 
They led her with songs by the stream, 
 They brought her with tears to the river, 
They danced as the maze of a dream, 
They kissed her to roses and cream, 
 And they cried, “ Let the queen live for ever ! ” 
 
They took her, with all of the flowers 
 They had girded her with for God’s daughter ; 
They cast her from amorous bowers 
To the river, the horrible powers 
 Of the Beast that lurks down by the Water !