And upon the face from which sprangst never a face;
Grafts thyself one anew that in all relishes thus possessed,
Let thy substance upon her kindred fair blush her well,
That in the face of all beauty I am corrupted none the last;
Thou callst her the lady in all her fair grain bleeds for fair,
Brought mine a custom close for reeled in the brushes ye bake,
Whilst they wait, thy company here, shall I wait and tender brew;
To give thee that poison from which Nature guards and thus apply:
Sound her charms with all the sighs and reliefs that skins touch,
That lady I love prefers the mask she crafts daily than her truest;
For anyone to use such poison unto their face, body doth weep,
Their body that exposes themselves to this and thus to shrink wildly,
Alas for beauty be the mask of fools, while ignorance be their grace;
Having washed upon the haven thy face portray which greets thy feral ways,
And in the days that pass shall thee absorb such a poison and exhale,
That for all which we breathe can never satisfy for what deposits upon thine,
Towards neither light nor the abyss had they moved but only coloured,
And for thy body adapt in such ways as ye accustomed had given it a name: beauty,
Hence we shall consume the poison and become one with the poison for thy beauty preserved.

Category:
Mysterious, Nature, Poetry, Works
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