O! Sweetness, thy name is wind,
Thou follow a black horse
That colours the foundation of this crowded house
In living saffron.

Let me take thy noble brow
And crown it with a kiss,
Let me place upon thy shoulders
a mantle which outstrips the rarity of griffin fur.

For thy skin is parchment upon which
Perfection writes its holy name.

O! Sweetness, thy name is wind,
And as the breeze
I shall ne'er hold thee in my grasp.