The passion-flower bears in her violet Cup
The senses of her bridal, and they seem
Symbols of sacred pangs,—Love lifted up
To expiate the beauty of his dream.
Come and adore, ye crafty imagers,
This piece of ivory and amethyst.
Let Music, Colour, decorated Verse,
Meditate, each like some sad lutanist,
This Paten, and the marvels it uncovers,
Identities of joy and anguish. Rod,
Nails, bitter garlands, all ecstatic lovers
Blindly repeat the dolours of a God.
Subdue this mournful matter unto Art,
Ivory, amethyst, serene of heart.