He is the equal of the gods, my queen,
He crowned and chosen out of men,
Who sits beside thee, sees
Love’s laughing ecstasies
Flame in thy face, and alter then
To the low light of passion dimly seen
In shaded woods and dells, Love’s wide demesne.
But me! I burn with love! My lips are wan!
Thy face is turned—I flame! I melt! I fall!
My heart is chilled and dark;