O tender love so heavenly!
If I your fateful eyes forgot,
Of ashes fiery – and if not,
Forlorn, untamed, would you still be –
Those islands dear, that wondrous hub!
For you alone do me address,
Your shore, where the idolatrous
Atone, if heavenly, their love.
There saints in endless gratitude,
And wrathful heroes served, in days
Of beauty; there trees will have swayed,
And cities stood in patent view,
Much like a thoughtful man; anon
Are heroes dead, love's islands seem
Well-nigh deformed. So must love's dream
Outwit all silly fools, bar none.
Your softest tears do not my sight
Occlude in full; let memory –
Deceptive, thieving – outlive me:
Leave this so I may nobly die.