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Sidney Lanier - On Violet`s Wafers, Sent Me When I Was Ill
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Fine-tissued as her finger-tips, and white
 As all her thoughts; in shape like shields of prize,
 As if before young Violet`s dreaming eyes
Still blazed the two great Theban bucklers bright
That swayed the random of that furious fight
 Where Palamon and Arcite made assize
 For Emily; fresh, crisp as her replies,
That, not with sting, but pith, do oft invite
 More trial of the tongue; simple, like her,
Well fitting lowlihood, yet fine as well,
 — The queen`s no finer; rich (though gossamer)
In help to him they came to, which may tell
   How rich that him SHE`LL come to; thus men see,
   Like Violet`s self e`en Violet`s wafers be.
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