The poem
BEAUTY clear and fair, Where the air Rather like a perfume dwells; Where the violet and the rose Their blue veins and blush disclose, And come to honour nothing else:
Where to live near And planted there Is to live, and still live new; Where to gain a favour is More than light, perpetual bliss-- Make me live by serving you!
Dear, again back recall To this light, A stranger to himself and all! Both the wonder and the story Shall be yours, and eke the glory; I am your servant, and your thrall.