Love put his eyes in me to see you well.
I watch you when you come and go, or sit.
His eyes don’t know, as I do, they are bound
By iron bands. From you there is no flit,
No seeking weak sun’s gold or light bud’s white.
For all, next you, seems beaten, frail, unsound,
And dawn must follow you for real delight.
Love put his heart in me to love you well,
And I, obedient to what his eyes do see,
Rebelling more than little from this slavery,
Grow stronger now to master Love’s desire,
Then make it all my own, or die a liar.
I put Love’s hands on you that are my own,
And squeeze us into heights else never known.