A fiery serpent eating at her heart;
A quiver on her back with tongues for arrows.
Each of these pictures left its little shadow,
A little memory in your spellbound face,
And so your picture smiles at all of these,
And at one secret never breathed aloud,
Because I think we knew it all too well.
Once only, in a riddle, I made you smile
At our own secret also, when I said
‘If liberty be dear to you, Madonna,