You who behold me know me not,
For while thou dost commune
With my fellowship, I am apart from thee.
My spirit basks confidently
Within Saffron Days.

She is leopard-footed and her locks
Are bound with silver cords,
Wherein poppies hang; and night
Is in her eyes, a pale-lit night,
Whose throat is circleted of white stars.

My spirit basks in a Saffron Day,
Heavy of sweet scents, yea,
Twixt thee and me, oh you my fellow,
In a silver veil, through which
Thou seest not, and I behold thee!