Locks of hair and the hope to be a silver key
are Myth and Creation – are Haven, Destination;
beyond Earth and Sea smiles that scarlet world
whose kingdoms came and regents wept
for martyrdom:

It is Beauty, it is Grace
of poets who write, in apathy to act;
conduct a fury! yet lack the very motion,
and to dearly want is to dearly despair,
for the Face of God I have touched
with Desire, my Truth threadbare

I wished for whims and the heavens obliged
with a stroke of skin; Sweetness she unbridled
and ‘twas a second I slept on foreign shores,
in Elysium’s lap, ignorant of Doom or Decline

To turn Sphere Celestial, to force Heaven askew,
to be bound to her who lifts Affinity aloft –
that is to be Chosen, build Firmament anew