There’s no such fair feathered, foul fortune as you,
A soft, sweet, pale, sad victory won.
Some glitter, glare, fantastic bounty seen,
As sharp as sickened sentences begun.
A spring of some sour symphony brings wonder,
The fairest painted silken lock slipped under.
What, care? What care!
This raven hair, slicker, slipping,
Lips a thousand times to know.
The softest curl and skid of myth unfurled,
Undone, like some virgin forfeit; a most pious whore.
So sit on your milky moon and guard your night-time sky,
Drip tears into my pocket and rip in two my sense of right.
Some exquisite knowledge steeped in innocence,
Dear sweet poison, precious torment.
Love, perpetual love.
All consuming, driven by every drop of blood inside.
O, whole-hearted wretch, vile burden.
Sweetest heart, some love as yet unknown,
Defiled, regained, recounted.
Lovesick purpose beautiful as yet to turn an Aphrodite by her tongue.
A love, forever, for always, by death.
Some close-knit ecstatic heart for you.