XIV
“Quare, dum licet, internos laetemur amantes;
Non satis est ullo tempore longus amor.”
Propertius
Your love has clothed me with a garment fair
That covers up all soil and smirch and sin,
From folded feet folds whitely to the chin
And hallows me as those the saints do wear.
O, trust me—I will keep it spotless, fair,
For this, your gracious gift, my dreams shall win