Such are lovers more than grace can seem  The pictures of the immaculate  Even their heaven bows to this earth    The fairest, beautiful and withered  Not even nature's own shapes can imagine  Shameless and splendid with youth  The winds now blow with feathers  And tomorrow I wer them    How the trees bow to subtlety  And eden has fathered their souls  Savour the nights for rain  Your impetus has left me shapeless  Beat the passion and carve me in sand    Wondrous skills, fountains of the tomorrow  A journey for dead lovers as even grief was sorry  My smiles leap through the ashes (and touching with pain)  I touch with pain  Such a poetry I have answered desire  And as ever the innocent sleep within  Temptation lays to beating hands