My loves are bronzes, crystals, porcelains,
Windows aglow like jewelled treasuries,
Hangings of florid, golden argosies,
And salvers brilliant with Venetian stains.
My loves are damosels of ancient reigns,
The old world's troubadour sweet harmonies,
The steed that bounds to Arabic caprice,
The German ballad with its tear refrains,

The ivory-carved piano-keys aflood,
The sounding horn within the forest glade,
The soft aroma from the censer fumed,
The couch of ivory, gold, and sandal-wood,
Where virgin loveliness at last is laid,
A broken flower of innocence entombed.