= Transformation =

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

She waited in a rose-hued room;

A wanton-hearted creature she,

But beautiful and bright to see

As some great orchid just in bloom.

Upon wide cushions stretched at ease

She lolled in garments filmy fine,

Which but enhanced each rounded line;

A living picture, framed to please.

A bold electric eye of light

Leered through its ruddy screen of lace

And feasted on her form and face

As some wine-crimsoned roué might.

From wall and niche, nude nymph beguiled

Fair goddesses of world-wide fame,

But Psyche's self was put to shame

By one who from the cushions smiled.

Exotic blossoms from a vase

Their sweet narcotic breath exhaled;

The lights, the objects round her paled —

She lost the sense of time and place.

She seemed to float upon the air,

Untrammeled, unrestricted, free;

And rising from a vapory sea

She saw a form divinely fair.

A beauteous being in whose face

Shone all things sweet and true and good.

The innocence of maidenhood,

The motherhood of all the race.

The warmth which comes from heavenly fire,

The strength which leads the weaker man

To climb to God's Eternal plan

And conquer and control desire.

She shook as with a mighty awe,

For, gazing on this shape which stood

Embodying all true womanhood,

She knew it was herself she saw.

She woke as from a dream. But when

The laughing lover, light and bold

Came with his talk of wine and gold

He gazed, grew silent, gazed again;

Then turned abashed from those calm eyes

Where lurked no more the lure to sin.

Her higher self had entered in,

Her path led now to Paradise.