They ask me— thy crystalline eyes, so acute,

Your eyes like crystal ask me, clear and mute,

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

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

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

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

For all, save the rude and untutored brute,

Except the candour of the primal brute,

Is loth its infernal depths to reveal,

Would hide from you the secret burning it

And its dissolute motto engraven with fire,

And its black legend written out in fire,

Oh charmer! whose arms endless slumber inspire!

O soother of the sleep that I respire!

I abominate passion and wit makes me ill.

Passion I hate, and I am hurt by wit.

So let us love gently. Within his retreat,

Let us love gently. In his lair laid low,

Foreboding, Love seeks for his arrows a prey,

Ambushed in shades, Love strings his fatal bow.

I know all the arms of his battle array.

I know his ancient arsenal complete,

Delirium and loathing O pale Marguerite!

Crime, horror, lunacy — O my pale daisy!

Like me, art thou not an autumnal ray,

Are we not suns in Autumn, silver-hazy,

Alas my so white, my so cold Marguerite

O my so white, so snow-cold Marguerite?