I

The first created held a joyous bower, A flowering field, the world's sole wonderment, High Paradise, from whence a woman's power Enticed him to fall to endless banishment. This on the banks of Euphrates did stand, Till the first Mover, by his wondrous might, Planted it in thine eyes, thy face, thy hands, From whence the world receives his fairest light. Thy cheeks contain choice flowers; thy eyes, two suns; Thy hands, the fruit that no life blood can stain; And in thy breath, that heavenly music wons, Which, when thou speak'st, angels their voices strain. As from the first thy sex exiled me, So to this next let me be called by thee!