Bluer than Helen's eyes she lies
Under the blue cloud-drifting skies;
A daughter fair of light and air
Dropped among warrior mountains there.

White glaciers kiss her feet so fleet-
Oh fugitive, too rare and sweet!
Will she not fling them off that cling,
And rise, a bluebird on the wing?

Will she not rise and stray away,
A blue gleam on the brow of day?
Look-still she stays, and bright, snow-white,
The glaciers guard her day and night!