By our sons (if we have them) beheld;
Oh jewels the midnight enriching,
Oh four which are double of twain!
Oh mystical—bother the itching!
Mosquitos again!
You alone I can anchor my eye on,
Of you and you only I’ll write,
And I now look awry on Orion,
That once was my chiefest delight.
Ye exalt me high over the petty