HER dreamy eyes are of the blue of smoke,
That softly, frond by frond, and gyre by gyre,
O'er some thatched bothy, in a Highland glen,
Unfurls at gloaming from an ingle fire,
Whose hearth-stone is love's altar,--blue of smoke
Ascending, blending in blue heaven away,--
Blue of the fragrant smoke of vestal flame
That in her virgin heart burns night and day.