I am not theirs to possess, they are mine, they are mine.
Did you believe I was given to you as a gift,
Something to treasure and care for and handle and clothe?
Lo! it is you are my gift to be treasured and clothed,
Fashion no garments for me, mine has fallen on you.
"How should men colour me? sing me? array me in light?
How should they think me, conceive me, endow me with form?
Mine is the thought, the conception none other's than mine,
You and the children of men are the birth I bring forth,
Not within you do I enter, you enter in me.