Lady, believe me ever at your feet, 
When all the Venus in you you condense 
Unto a gesture natural and sweet, 
Full-filled with purity's white eloquenc
Your sentient arm so softly did incense 
The love of beauty in my soul complete, 
That I had given the dearest things of sense 
For that your gesture natural and swee
Genius and beauty, and the things that mar 
The love of life with Love's own purest glow, 
Out of all thinking, all unconscious are;