1. My beloved, have we given the moment its due
Of fine blessing, in shape and sight?

2. When the first breeze makes to stir, you'd think it
A garment of spun delight unfurled.

3. As though nets were cast on her depths
Leaving an image traced above, uncurled,

4. And the tides of acceptance leave her be
Like the folding hem of a dancing gown uncurled.