My Queen of Slow, Deep Love, you’ve so prevailed
Upon my will I move slow as rock.
Still, though saying not, still, I love.
Your ears I’ll speak no more, for I must not.
You so trust slowness, are highest mistress of,
You school desire to cool him with low fire,
Teach long-yearn sap turn him from hot flares,
Become slow bud, ruff up in soft spring airs,
Then slowlier ope fair petals full to sun
Till flowers, all, lie open every one.
So teach you now, “Slow your passion’s force,
Go gently, show your garden, your whole source.”
And so, because all this, as rock I praise,
Who slows up to your eyes his loving gaze.

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