Thought lies there lucent but unsolvable,
Her curved mouth is tremulous yet still,
Her will holds it in check; were it to sleep
One moment—that white guardian will of hers—
Words would brim over in a wild betrayal,
Fall sweet and tell the secret of her charm,
Harm would befall the world, Beauty would fly
Into the shy recesses of the wood—
Be seen no more of mortals, be a myth
Remembered by a few who might recall