Edgar Fawcett - A Tiger-Lily lyrics

Strange that in your dark-dappled sanguine flower The sculpturesque repose can still endure Of that celestial lily, wrought so pure It lives as chastity's white type this hour! By what mysterious art, what baleful power, Did you, Diana of all blooms, allure From Nature's mood this Maenad vestiture, And mock with gaudy tints your taintless dower? Nay, long ago, I dream, through some warm dell Of Asian lands a weary tiger stole Where you, in pale bud, felt your first dews cling; And while he slept beneath you, it befell That all his deadly beauty pierced your soul And made you this fantastic sultry thing!