THE POET SINGS TO HER POET

As the full moon shining there To the sun that lighteth her Am I unto thee for ever, O my secret glory-giver! O my light, I am dark but fair, Black but fair.

Shine, Earth loves thee! And then shine And be loved through thoughts of mine. All thy secrets that I treasure I translate them at my pleasure. I am crowned with glory of thine. Thine, not thine.

I make pensive thy delight, And thy strong gold silver-white. Though all beauty of nine thou makest, Yet to earth which thou forsakest I have made thee fair all night, Day all night.