Beloved, you may be as all men say
Only a transient spark
Of flickering flame set in loam of clay
I care not
since you kindle all my dark
With the immortal lustres of the day.
And as all men deem, dearest, you may be
Only a common shell
Chance-winnowed by the sea-winds from the sea
The subtle murmurs of eternity.
And tho you are, like men or mortal race,
Only a hapless thing
That Death may mar and destiny efface
I care not
since unto my heart you bring
The very vision of Gods dwelling-place.
