O LET me be in loving nice,
Dainty, fine, and oer precise,
That I may charm my charmàd dear
As tho I felt a secret fear
To lose what never can be lost,
Her faith who still delights me most!
So shall I be more than true,
Ever in my ageing new.
So dull habit shall not be
Wrongly calld Fidelity.
Punctilio
written byMary Elizabeth Coleridge
© Mary Elizabeth Coleridge