My heart's blood leaps high, O my Lady, in a
fountain of restless aspiring.
That you should dangle within it the dissolute
gold of your hair.
I have shattered the doors of my spirit that
you might thereinto retiring
Reposefully lie on my pain and reflect that
the morning is fair.
You may go to the devil, my Lady, yourself
and the rest of your species!
I mean it, O desperate damsel, O Lady most
anxious and coy!
I shall retire to my chamber to see that my
clothes are in creases,
For I see by the tilt of your brow the minuteness
of brain you enjoy.
You have set the clear bells of my spirit to
crack in a dissonant jangle.
You are fair in your way, O my Lady, but rather
oppressively sexed.
There is no such fatal mistake as a primitive
facial angle.
Good-bye, O my dispossessed Lady, remember
my name to the next.