I, WHO am Love, come clothed in mystery,
As rose my beauteous mother from the Sea,
⁠Veiling my luminous wings from mortal sight—
⁠Whether at noon or in the star-strewn night—
That I may pass unrecognized and free.

Ignoring them that idly seek for me,
Unto mine own, from all eternity
⁠I come with heart aflame and torch alight—
⁠⁠⁠I who am Love!

What bring I them? Ah, draughts that sweeter be
Than welling waters of Callirrhoe!
⁠What give I them? Life!—even in Death's despite;
⁠And upward still I lead them to the height
Of an immortal passion's purity!—
⁠⁠⁠I who am Love.