I said :  the height is as the deep, 
Twin breasts of one white dove ; 
Death’s face is as the face of Sleep, 
And Lust is likest Love. 
 
And with my blood I forced the door 
That guards the palaces of sin ; 
I reached the lake’s cinereous shore ; 
I passed those groves within. 
 
My blood was wasted in her veins, 
To freshen them, who stood like death, 
Our Lady of ten thousand Pains 
With heavy kissing breath. 
 
I said :  Our Lady is as God, 
Her hell of pain as heaven above ; 
Death’s feet, like Sleep’s, with fire are shod, 
And Lust is likest Love. 
 
Our Lady crushed me in her bed, 
Between her breasts my life was wet ; 
My lips from that sweet death were fed ; 
I died, and would forget. 
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