They ask me— thy crystalline eyes, so acute,

They say to me, thy clear and crystal eyes:

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

“Why dost thou love me so, strange lover mine?”

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

Be sweet, be still! My heart and soul despise

For all, save the rude and untutored brute,

All save that antique brute-like faith of thine;

Is loth its infernal depths to reveal,

And will not bare the secret of their shame

And its dissolute motto engraven with fire,

To thee whose hand soothe me to slumbers long,

Oh charmer! whose arms endless slumber inspire!

Nor their black legend write for thee in flame!

I abominate passion and wit makes me ill.

Passion I hate, a spirit does me wrong.

So let us love gently. Within his retreat,

Let us love gently. Love, from his retreat,

Foreboding, Love seeks for his arrows a prey,

Ambushed and shadowy, bends his fatal bow,

I know all the arms of his battle array.

And I too well his ancient arrows know:

Delirium and loathing O pale Marguerite!

Crime, horror, folly. O pale Marguerite,

Like me, art thou not an autumnal ray,

Thou art as I, a bright sun fallen low,

Alas my so white, my so cold Marguerite

O my so white, my so cold Marguerite.