Struggling for an image on the track
Of the whirling Zodiac.
Scarce did he my body touch，
Scarce sank he from the west
Or found a subterranean rest
On the maternal midnight of my breast
Before I had marked him on his northern way，
And seemed to stand although in bed I lay.
I struggled with the horror of daybreak，
I chose it for my lot！ If questioned on
My utmost pleasure with a man
By some new-married bride， I take
That stillness for a theme
Where his heart my heart did seem
And both adrift on the miraculous stream
Where—wrote a learned astrologer—
The Zodiac is changed into a sphere.