I bathe my brow in lakes of scent
and gaze on maids who glide from oaks
to serve the queen in rites most blest.
Their veils of lace coil round my feet
A globe wings love; it bears me to light
where the grand court signs a chaste faun
with sweet gold sap shed by wood kings.
The mystic queen prays; her words are bells
A pearl key falls; its rose chain locks
to gild my neck and grant deep wants
that I will rest when shorn of peace
amid the fond chants earth gifts for joy.
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