He gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes

Fasten your hair with a golden pin，
     And bind up every wandering tress；
     I bade my heart build these poor rhymes：
     It worked at them， day out， day in，
     Building a sorrowful loveliness
     Out of the battles of old times.
     You need but lift a pearl-pale hand，
     And bind up your long hair and sigh；
     And all men‘s hearts must burn and beat；
     And candle-like foam on the dim sand，
     And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky，
     Live but to light your passing feet.