As night hath stars, more rare than ships
In ocean faint, from pole to pole
So all the wonder of her lips
Hints her innavigable soul.
Such lights she gives as guide my barque;
But I am swallowed in the swell
Of her heart’s ocean, sagely dark,
That holds my heaven and holds my hell.
In her I live, a mote minute
Dancing a moment in the sun:
In her I die, a sterile shoot
Of nightshade in oblivion.
In her my elf dissolves, a grain
Of salt cast careless in the sea;
My passion purifies my pain
To peace past personality.