Peeled white and washed with fallen rain,

A dancer weighed with jingling pearls,

The girl-white body of a plane,

In whose red hair the Autumn swirls,

Stands out, soliciting the cruel

Flame of the wintry sun, and dies,

If only to the watcher’s eyes,

In red-gold anguish glowing; fuel

To that cold fire, as she assumes

(Brunhilde) her refulgent plumes

In leaves that kindle as they die,

Of all that triumphs and returns

The furious aurora burns

Against the winter-boding sky.