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Poem for a Beloved

How you speak meekly, yet (sweetly proud)
Calling me the name I was christened,
Glad granted to your mouth, sole endowed;
And tu as the vous-sayers listened.

Lift from the rug your aquarine eye.
On your smiling cheek, vanity-clean,
A loving-father kiss. None wish spy
Eros in the curtains of our scene.