Finite And Infinite Beauty

The Loved One's rose-parterre I went to see, That beauty's Torch espied me, and, quoth He, "I am the tree; these flowers My offshoots are. Let not these offshoots hide from thee the tree."

What profit rosy cheeks, forms full of grace, And ringlets clustering round a lovely face? When Beauty Absolute beams all around, Why linger finite beauties to embrace?