Poetics
So say the foolish! Say the foolish so, Love? Flower she is, my rose or else, My very swan is she Or perhaps, Yon maid-moon, blessing earth below, Love, That art thou! to them, belike: no such vain words from me. Hush, rose, blush! no balm like breath, I chide it: Bend thy neck its best, swan, hers the whiter curve! Be the moon the moon: my Love I place beside it: What is she? Her human self, no lower word will serve.
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"So say the foolish! Say the foolish so, Love?..."
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