(To Bessie McKellen)
Thy nudity, like a white flame,
I shall inviolably guard:
O Secret Girl, mine eyes have yet
Not in the place of mortals met.
O Secret Girl whom, splendour-starred,
Some lordly noon my soul shall claim.
More than the Brahman Heart of Ind,
I shall be spears about thy breasts:
When thou no more, O Secret Goal,
Art secret from mine eyes and soul,
O Mother of my waiting nests,
O dew and dark, O day and wind.
Thou shalt be sheer beyond the wars,
And sacred from the waste of words:
O Secret Girl, O Dove, O Pard,
I shall inviolably guard.
For we shall crowd the trees with birds,
The sky with swarms of shouting stars!