On the evening of Valentine, to the Lord Cecil:

I want to offer you comfort, wipe that harsh look of your face
Hold you until you cry, and then to kiss away your tears
But every time I touch you, you shy and turn away
And every time I smile at you, your face is full of fear

I never want to hurt you but I cannot understand
Why your handsome face is locked in a perpetual frown
Why your lovely eyes show as much feeling as a stone
And why it is, wherever you go, you seem to lack a crown

Your face I drown in others' and yet it's always there
Like a painful, glorious dream your dark hair haunts my nights
Your looks over-imposed on every lover that I take
'Til I'm so confused I cannot separate wrong from right

What tragic secrets do you bear, what sorrows have you reaped?
Your eyes are full of shadow, but your heart's a golden core
And you move so languidly, like liquid silver flows
Why does your very haughtiness just make me want you more?

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