XXII

Take all of me, pour out my life as wine,

To dye your soul's sweet shallows. Violent sin

Blazed me a path, and I have walked therein,

Strong, unashamed. Your timorous hands need mine,

As the white stars their sky, your lips’ pale line

Shall blush to roses where my lips have been.

I ask no more. I do not hope to win —

Only to add myself to your design.

Take all of me. I know your little lies,

Your light dishonor, gentle treacheries.

I know, I lie in torment at your feet,

Shadow to all your sun. Take me and go,

Use my adoring to your honor, sweet,

Strength for your weakness — it is better so.