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.