114 ‘ • Á¼±ÆÁ¿´¯Ä¿Å ’ O½±Á Thy love-gift I will wear, Thy joys my soul shall share, Being made one with thee. So, love, the days may keep My nameless love from me ; Yet over slumber’s deep I will sail into sleep Thither to lie by thee, Hold thee with arms that cleave Lock thee in limbs that leap, Chain thee with lips that leave Kisses of blood to weave Castles of hope in sleep. Poppy ! best flower whose bud Sends dreams to men that die, I drain thy drowsy flood That our impatient blood May mingle utterly. So, Hermes, thou art wed, So, Aphrodite, mine, In one sweet spirit shed