Of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, it is told
(The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,)
That, ere the snake’s, her sweet tongue could deceive,
And her enchanted hair was the first gold.
And still she sits, young while the earth is old,
And, subtly of herself contemplative,
Draws men to watch the bright net she can weave,
Till heart and body and life are in its hold.

The rose and poppy are her flowers; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
Lo! as that youth’s eyes burned at thine, so went
Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent,
And round his heart one strangling golden hair.

I adore this photo, and would love to know which fashion editorial this hails from.

Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth,
          Thou from whose immortal bosom
Gods and men and beasts have birth,
          Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.

If with mists of evening dew
          Thou dost nourish these young flowers
Till they grow in scent and hue
          Fairest children of the Hours,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.