Willing all your sweetness to immure
In a leafy cloister, waves alone caressing,
Give my soul your whiteness ere ye go,
That its stainless beauty be to him a blessing;
For he loves me, and I would be pure.
“O faithful stars! I pray ye, touch me so
With the virtue given unto you
That I fail him never, living, nor yet dying,
Howsoe'er the days may come and go,
With a steadfast tenderness his life supplying;