Classic Poem

In chamber thought my mind is like a fire
Kindled and set to roar by a strong wind,
And my tongue eloquent, and my eyes blind
To all but mad pursuit of their desire.
But I am mute before thee, as a quire
Of singers when one chant soars unconfin'd
From one gold-throated minstrel: thou dost bind

My lips, eyes, heart, my very thought's attire.
For body's beauty is thy soul's thin veil
Wherethro' soul's beauty shineth like a jewel
Blood-bright, whose too pure strength would else assail
Earth-groping eyes: it hath thy soul's impress,
It hath thy soul's white magic, but, less cruel,
Soul's pride softened by body's courteousness.