Lay your sleeping head my love human on my faceless arm. Time and fevers burn away individual beauty from thoughtful children and the grave proves the child a femoral. But in my arms till break of day, let the living creature lie, mortal guilty, but to me, they entirely beautiful. Cell and body have no bounds to lovers as they lie upon her tolerant and chanted slope in their ordinary swoop. Grave the vision, Venus sense of supernatural sympathy, universal love and hope. While an abstract insight wakes among the glaciers and the rocks, the hermit's sensual ecstasy. Certainty, fidelity on the stroke of midnight pass like vibrations of a bell. And fashionable madmen raise their pedantic boring cry. Every farthing of the cust, all the dreaded cards for tell shall be paid. Not from this night, not a whisper, not a thought, not a kiss, nor look, Venus. Beauty, midnight vision dies, let the winds of dawn that blow softly round your dreaming head, such a day of sweetness show eye and knocking hard, mablous. And the mortal world enough, noons of dryness see you fend, by the involuntary powers, knights of insult let your past swatched by every human love.