  Some souls are white With perfectness, like stars full-orbed in heaven, Silently moving through the stainless blue; Seeming naught of their nature to have drawn From contact with the earth; and some are white With innocence, like daisies that too near The ground their fair leaves fearlessly unfold. This woman’s soul Is white with purity; the snowy bloom Of a camelia, that feels no disdain In drawing from this common earth of ours The sources of its beauty and its life; Yet with a wise and lofty self-control, Refuses long to blossom to the sun; Spreading its glossy leaves to light and air; Winning a deep, sure knowledge of the world; Rising with quiet dignity and grace Into a higher air; and when at last Its stately petals open to the day, Not with the daisy’s foolish trustfulness, But with the confidence of slow-won strength, To the world’s gaze it silently unfolds The perfect flower of a royal soul, |
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