My hero bares his nerves along my wrist

　　That rules from wrist to shoulder，

　　Unpacks¹ the head that， like a sleepy ghost，

　　Leans on my mortal ruler，

　　The proud spine² spurning³ turn and twist.

　　And these poor nerves so wired to the skull⁴

　　Ache on the lovelorn paper

　　I hug to love with my unruly scrawl⁵

　　That utters all love hunger

　　And tells the page the empty ill.

　　My hero bares my side and sees his heart

　　Tread； like a naked Venus，

　　The beach of flesh， and wind her bloodred plait；

　　Stripping my loin of promise，

　　He promises a secret heat.

　　He holds the wire from this box of nerves

　　Praising the mortal error

　　Of birth and death， the two sad knaves⁶ of thieves，

　　And the hunger's emperor；

　　He pulls that chain， the cistern⁷ moves.