I fashioned my love’s frown of dull command
    And sneer of some embellished, soundless clay.
    From morning to the night, from night to day
I dwelt nearby my love, and couldn’t stand
To peel my eyes from off her cheek’s faint brand,
    Nor off her lips, embroidered with the ray
    Of gold and ruby, bright as stars of May
Yet cold as winter wrapping autumn land.
    Oh, Venus, my poor heart and stricken soul
        Fell not for women of pure human touch
     For I have dipped myself in folly’s bowl
         But deem it folly I should not, for much
    I’ve loved, but Venus, ever in my dole
         I’ll live if stays to be of icy stone, this statue’s clutch