TO B. D.

By Helen Hay Whitney

Broad browed beneath a cloud of dusky hair

Her eyes are midnight seas that never sleep

But see beyond the dull world's heavy air

The mystery of ages buried deep.

The faint sweet shadows trembling round her mouth

Lighten with youth and love the Sphinx's face.

And as she moves, a soft wind from the South

Floating, flower-laden seems — so sweet her grace.

Aloof she stands, from idle mirth and tears

And keeps the white sails of her spirit furled,

Altho’ a girl, pure from the stain of years,

An ancient Egypt, smiling at the world.