Chapter XI: The Passion-Flower

The passion-flower bears in her violet Cup The senses of her bridal, and they seem Symbols of sacred pangs,--Love lifted up To expiate the beauty of his dream. Come and adore, ye crafty imagers, This piece of ivory and amethyst. Let Music, Colour, decorated Verse, Meditate, each like some sad lutanist, This Paten, and the marvels it uncovers, Identities of joy and anguish. Rod, Nails, bitter garlands, all ecstatic lovers Blindly repeat the dolours of a God. Subdue this mournful matter unto Art, Ivory, amethyst, serene of heart.