The poem
I DID not deem it half so sweet To feel thy gentle hand, As in a dream thy soul to greet Across wide leagues of land.
Untouched more near to draw to you Where, amid radiant skies, Glimmered thy plumes of iris hue, My Bird of Paradise.
Let me dream only with my heart, Love first, and after see: Know thy diviner counterpart Before I kneel to thee.
So in thy motions all expressed Thy angel I may view: I shall not on thy beauty rest, But beauty’s self in you.