The earth and all its planetary kin, Starry buds tangled in the whirling hair That flames round the Phoebean wassailer, Speed no more ignorant, more predestined flight, Than I, HER viewless tresses netted in.
As some most beautiful one, with lovely taunting, Her eyes of guileless guile o'ercanopies, Does her hid visage bow, And miserly your covetous gaze allow, By inchmeal, coy degrees, Saying--"Can you see me now?"Yet from the mouth's reflex you guess the wanting Smile of the coming eyes In all their upturned grievous witcheries, Before that sunbreak rise;And each still hidden feature view within Your mind, as eager scrutinies detail The moon's young rondure through the shamefast veil Drawn to her gleaming chin:
After this wise, From the enticing smile of earth and skies I dream my unknown Fair's refused gaze;And guessingly her love's close traits devise, Which she with subtile coquetries Through little human glimpses slow displays, Cozening my mateless days By sick, intolerable delays.
And so I keep mine uncompanioned ways;
And so my touch, to golden poesies Turning love's bread, is bought at hunger's price.
So,--in the inextinguishable wars Which roll song's Orient on the sullen night Whose ragged banners in their own despite Take on the tinges of the hated light, -So Sultan Phoebus has his Janizars.
But if mine unappeased cicatrices Might get them lawful ease;Were any gentle passion hallowed me, Who must none other breath of passion feel Save such as winnows to the fledged heel The tremulous Paradisal plumages;The conscious sacramental trees Which ever be Shaken celestially, Consentient with enamoured wings, might know my love for thee.
Yet is there more, whereat none guesseth, love!