  Two clouds, gold and purple, at sunrise contending; Two chords of rare music, contrasting and blending, Through the carnival flying like sunshine and shadow, Pursuing each other o’er mountain and meadow, Swept our blonde and brunette, all radiant with joy— Cleopatra of Egypt, and Helen of Troy. The blonde is a dew-spangled morning in June When birds, breeze and bees with the sun are in tune; Her lips and the rose scent the crystalline air And the sunshine is lost in the gold of her hair. The brunette is a ray of the mystical light Which falls from the moon on a midsummer night, And visions celestial of Loveland arise, From the luminous depths of her violet eyes; And each rapturous gleam of her presence gives birth To the joys which fair Venus brought down to the earth. |
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