I love her with the seasons, with the winds


    "I am pure! I am pure ! I am pure !" 

    I LOVE her with the seasons, with the winds, 
    As the stars worship, as anemones 
    Shudder in secret for the sun, as bees 
    Buzz round an open flower : in all kinds 
    My love is perfect, and in each she finds 
    Herself the goal ; then why, intent to tease 
    And rob her delicate spirit of its ease 
    Hastes she to range me with inconstant minds ?

    If she should die, if I were left at large 

    On earth without her — I, on earth, the same 

    Quick mortal with a thousand cries, her spell 

    She fears would break. And I confront the charge. 

    As sorrowing, and as careless of my fame, 

    As Christ intact before the infidel.