I stood inside the first of many walls
That ringed the palace of your guarded soul.
And it was beautiful, with waterfalls,
And gardens ringing round a quiet knoll.
It did not tempt me—all my being knew
That gentle order was a roaring lie.
I ached not for its peace, but, love, for you
And for the fierce abandon of your sky.

I could smell jungle, thick and lush and wild,
And hear the cry of predatory birds.
But from that bacchanal I was exiled
To pretty gardens filled with empty words.
O guarded love, I will not dash my heart
Upon your walls. I'll grieve, and then depart.