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I was a coarse and vulgar man,
I vile and vulgar things had done;
And I, as Nature's instincts ran,
Was wont to let them run.
And yet to such a man as I
Did Lilie her pure fancy fling;
And loved me— as a butterfly
May love a flower of Spring.
She sought my breast, she nestled there,
For nought knew she that should forbid:
God help me! but she was too fair,—
I knew not what I did.
I knew not what I did, and now
Scarce know if I did wrong or right;
But in my arms, I wot not how,
There came a Soul to light.
But as one bends o'er waters clear,
And sees the cloud-reflecting space
Give quickly up the idle sphere
To yield a human face,
