Shapes of Clay

Did I believe the angels soon would call

You, my beloved, to the other shore,

And I should never see you any more,

I love you so I know that I should fall

Into dejection utterly, and all

Love's pretty pageantry, wherein we bore

Twin banners bravely in the tumult's fore,

Would seem as shadows idling on a wall.

So daintily I love you that my love

Endures no rumor of the winter's breath,

And only blossoms for it thinks the sky

Forever gracious, and the stars above

Forever friendly. Even the fear of death

Were frost wherein its roses all would die.