Your eyes like crystal ask me, clear and mute,

They ask me— thy crystalline eyes, so acute,

"in me, strange lover, what do you admire?"

"Odd lover why am I to thee so dear?"

Be lovely: hush: my heart, whom all things tire

Be sweet and keep silent, my heart, which is sear,

Except the candour of the primal brute,

For all, save the rude and untutored brute,

Would hide from you the secret burning it

Is loth its infernal depths to reveal,

And its black legend written out in fire,

And its dissolute motto engraven with fire,

O soother of the sleep that I respire!

Oh charmer! whose arms endless slumber inspire!

Passion I hate, and I am hurt by wit.

I abominate passion and wit makes me ill.

Let us love gently. In his lair laid low,

So let us love gently. Within his retreat,

Ambushed in shades, Love strings his fatal bow.

Foreboding, Love seeks for his arrows a prey,

I know his ancient arsenal complete,

I know all the arms of his battle array.

Crime, horror, lunacy — O my pale daisy!

Delirium and loathing O pale Marguerite!

Are we not suns in Autumn, silver-hazy,

Like me, art thou not an autumnal ray,

O my so white, so snow-cold Marguerite?

Alas my so white, my so cold Marguerite