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The joy of pleasant places

Where Saturn still doth reign

Is in her gentle face’s

Calm ignorance of pain.

The bliss of ages golden

In her slim hand is holden,

By old gods she was molden

Before the world knew stain.

Her body is an altar

Wherein is Love enshrined.

Before her worldlings falter

And cruel eyes grow kind.

Her breath is breath of roses

From mystic garden-closes,

The troubled it composes

Like nectar-laden wine.

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O Shee who weave the moonlight into shimmering white strands,

O powerful and tender-hearted Shee!

While I live at home in plenty or am poor in far-off lands,

I will thank you for the gifts you gave to me.

For the silver collar that you wrought me by your magic art,

For the scarlet Seal that on my mouth you set,

For the glorious White Flower that you placed upon my heart,

When the sun and moon shall die I’ll thank you yet.

For around my throat the Silver Collar of soft arms I wear,

On my mouth sweet lips have fixed the Scarlet Seal,

On my heart the perfect Flower white of deathless love I bear,