Song

All my love for my sweet  
 I bared one day to her.  
Carelessly she took it,  
 And like a conqueror  
She bowed the neck of my soul  
 To fit it to her yoke,  
And bridled the lips of Song—  
 Fear within me awoke!  
But Love cried: “Swiftly, swiftly  
 Bear her along the road;  
Beautiful is the goal  
 And Beauty is the goad.”