SAINT THAIS

SAINT THAIS

I, Lord, the world of men
confess to find, in leaving,
as rare and lovely as when
my lost locks I sat weaving;
find earth fast pair believing
thought I wish it not again,
though I bear thee, dovelike greeting,
my heart of a Magdalen.

- Such love must burn its eyes
and take veil upon veil,
which is like the serpent wise
and like the lion mighty,
yet is frail as the frail
blue doves of Aphrodite.