Born of sun’s affection ‘pon ****** brow
Where the ghost of lust traces its hand
Passions doth rise, as shadows slowly now
Delicate but sure as the sea on sand
Haunt as you will now, desperate dreams
Of puppeteer, the one who pulls my strings
Mere images, simple thoughts it still seems
Upon this eve of pensive sleep here springs
Ever present a reminder thereof
From the whitewashed waves, timely it doth rise
Amid the stars to rightful place above
Higher, higher and to the heavens it now flies
Once again now within the sight of all
I have tasted of love and seen its fall