🕊️ Say not of beauty she is good,
🕊️ Or aught but beautiful,
🕊️ Or sleek to doves’ wings of the wood
🕊️ Her wild wings of a gull.
🕊️ Call her not wicked; that word’s touch
🕊️ Consumes her like a curse;
🕊️ But love her not too much, too much,
🕊️ For that is even worse.
🕊️ O, she is neither good nor bad,
🕊️ But innocent and wild!
🕊️ Enshrine her and she dies, who had
🕊️ The hard heart of a child.
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