Inamorata -- daughter of the moon,
So ashen faced, your lips turned violet;
Asleep yet not asleep upon a stone
Of marble, beautiful as when we met
One fated night upon a sandy shore,
With moonlit tides cascading o'er our feet;
The flowing lily white dress that you wore
Now serves to shroud your icy form, my sweet --
Wouldst thou condemn me breathless as thou art,
Or worse, to mourn a lifetime e'er in grief
Till summers end and winters chill my heart
And death unsheathes his scythe to bring relief?
Oh love, my love -- what choice thou givest me --
Behold my love, I come -- I come to thee