Struck blind by beauty, let my eyes retire;
What need have I for any further sight?
They’ve tasted of this unsurpassed delight,
Depleting every morsel of desire.
To keep them is to see her beauty tire,
Her body give in to the ageing fight,
Then one day watch her eyes succumb to night
Before the embers of the dwindling fire.
O sight can go and memory take its place,
That cavern modelling eternity,
To shelter this one image of her face
Forever, silently and wistfully,
Envisaging some fanciful embrace
Even if it was never meant to be.