Three fountains clear as crystal spring
In one secluded garden-plot;
In shade and shelter of one cot
Three sister-doves are harbouring.

Adown one pathway hand in hand
Three Sister-Graces wend their way;
I shall not soon forget the day
I met with them in fairy land.

I know not whence or how, they bloomed:
Each sweeter than the sweetest rose
That in the haunted garden grows
Where burns the bush still unconsumed.

And one is like a rising sun
When dewy Morn unveils her eyes;
And one is as Minerva wise;
And very lily-like is one.