Of Foul and Gentle Bower

Mary! Thou shoudst see my eyes of desire:
For I hath cherished thee: in my reverie
Of fowl and an noble class, of gentry,
And of a far side strew of shelter and bower.
The ancient mariners assist, in the rains less shower
Of thee, where thou knowst these faithful deaths.
Parish thee in thy last breaths,
And fowl the title, the name, Mary!
Thou shouldst see my eyes of desire.
This apparent and faceless fire, for thee,
With a soul, as a soul, of the cloaked death.
In suffering dwelt afar, to the bower,
Then didst the moon rise, for presents and arduous shower:
Mary! Thou shalt knowst, beautiful, fair and free,
Desires that seem afar, but shelter unto thee.