English poem
Madrigale
by T. E. Hulme (1883–1917)
Clear is my love but shadowed By the spun gold above her, Ah, what a petal those bent sheaths discover!
The olive wood hath hidden her completely. She was gowned that discreetly The leaves and shadows concealed her completely.
Fair is my love but followed In all her goings surely By gracious thoughts, she goeth so demurely.