Lo, I, that once was Fear, that hears
His own forgotten breath, and fears
The breath of something else is heard -
Am now bold Love, to dare the word;
No timid mouse am I, before
He'll cross a moonbeam on the floor.
So sit thou close, and I will pour
Into that rosy shell, thy ear,
My deep-sea passion, let me swear
There's nothing in the world so fair
As thy sweet face that does, and will,
Retain its baby roundness still:
With those two suns, thine eyes, that keep
Their light from clouds till Night brings sleep.
Forget my features, only see
The soul in them that burns for thee;
And never let it cross thy mind
That I am ugly for my kind.
Although the world may well declare,
'One is an angel sweet and fair,
But what it is that sits so close
Must rest with God - He only knows.'