THE POET SINGS TO HER POET

As the full moon shining there

To the sun that lighteth her

Am I unto thee for ever,

O my secret glory-giver!

O my light, I am dark but fair,

Black but fair.

Shine, Earth loves thee! And then shine

And be loved through thoughts of mine.

All thy secrets that I treasure

I translate them at my pleasure.

I am crowned with glory of thine.

Thine, not thine.

I make pensive thy delight,

And thy strong gold silver-white.

Though all beauty of nine thou makest,

Yet to earth which thou forsakest

I have made thee fair all night,

Day all night.