My Two Daughters

In the cool chiaroscuro of a fine falling eve,
One like a swan and the other a dove—
Beautiful, both of them joyful—oh, sweet!
See, elder sister and younger complete,
Sat at the edge of the garden; with them
Bunched white carnations of long slender stem
Are set in a marble urn stirred by the breeze—
Leaning to watch them, a still living frieze,
And shivering in shade, at the rim of their dish,
Like a flutter of butterflies hanging in bliss.

[Château of] Terrasse, near Enghien, June 1842