Let a florid music praise,
   The flute and the trumpet,
Beauty’s conquest of your face:
In that land of flesh and bone,
Where from citadels on high
Her imperial standards fly,
     Let the hot sun
     Shine on, shine on.
 
O but the unloved have had power,
   The weeping and striking,
Always: time will bring their hour;
Their secretive children walk
Through your vigilance of breath
To unpardonable Death,
     And my vows break
     Before his look.

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