Who dubs me frantic? Summer winds subside.

Her soft feet kiss the grass. I’m quite untied!

My fond eyes find the music of her hips.

I propagate the faith each lover knows:

My ten commandments are her ten bare toes.

To the path on which she walks, I press my lips.

Havoc my bumbling wits, tremendous queen!

Show me a dance that only God has seen.

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Angels amaze me: all the saints conspire

To plunge my heart into a cool blue fire.

Don't ask me, camerado, why I swoon!

Thomas Carew, have all your lilies faded?

Her limbs are lively. How can I be jaded?

She's Planet Earth, and I her orbiting moon.

My mad mind catches what the best brains miss:

Her gestures are a liturgy of bliss.

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Sages, attend: I live to sing her name

Who smithereens my fear, shatters my shame;

I am her thrall, her trifle and her toy.

In drowsy dale, by hedge or river-bed,

Where her steps linger, I would rest my head.

She plays with me, her knave, her naughty boy.

I bend my knees before her, raise my eyes,

And bask in love's perpetual surprise.