Tinging thine image with mysterious grace
That centers soul and body in the face
As in an emerald pool?
It is not thus that I would have you live
A miser, when such treasure you might give
My heart in words. Your parent thoughts would tell
Of love and laughter that have cast the spell
I would not break for all the organ peals
Of grey cathedrals, nor to lose the seals
That bind the mystery of Circe’s lips,