'So say the foolish!' Say the foolish so, Love?
'Flower she is, my rose' or else, 'My very swan is she'
Or perhaps, 'Yon maid-moon, blessing earth below, Love,
That art thou!' to them, belike: no such vain words from me.
'Hush, rose, blush! no balm like breath,' I chide it:
'Bend thy neck its best, swan, hers the whiter curve!'
Be the moon the moon: my Love I place beside it:
What is she? Her human self, no lower word will serve.