Tear me pages of this sweet suave heart,
to master its doting letters this mind craves
For its bearer’s presence this rhine raves.
Haste, make speed!
For this, I lay a thousand orisons…
If a hermit’s woo
and charm
will not wrench it out,
blade or claw will.
‘cos each eye’s feline flutter
each feminine sigh
beats a hart to butter- exceeding madness!
For as a hart from the sun recoils
And at blue brooks tames its tongue
So mine craves crimson drips
from this sweet suave heart.