Please, love, prate not of splendors long in coming
That in due time the heavens will effect;
But listen to this heart you set to humming --
Your mastery of me let reign unchecked:

So that I may my mistress truly know,
The patch of blue you grasp beneath the sun
(Your palette and the skies') command to show
What strength imbues your legs, and whence they run;
The thoughts that your beleaguered mind assail,
Not knowing which are worthy of your speech;

And whose embrace you seek when these must fail:
If mine it cannot be, then from your reach
I must myself remove, to search anew,
For one who needs my help to find that blue....

January 6, 2008.

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