Here you will find the Poem To the White Julienne of poet Mary Hannay Foott
Again above thy fragile flowers I bend, to bring their perfume nigh; For only in the evening hours Thy odors pass thy blossoms by; But when the ministering day Deserts thee with the warmth and light That lulled thee, waking thou wilt pay For these, in sweetness, to the night. O flower of Marie Antoinette! Ungrateful to the lavish day, Refusing it thy fragrance, yet Relenting in such generous way, Perchance, like thee, while life was bright Her soul no holy savour shed, Yet scattered incense when grief's night Wept dews of blood upon her head! I bend, to bring thy perfume near, Again, I cannot leave the spot; Damp walls and prison gloom are here! The beauties of the garden-plot Are gone, save thee, White Julienne, Fond-handled by the fated queen! I hear her sigh above thee, then The sentry's tread behind the screen!
