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?...