If the lowly oyster were for its own sake held high;
Then so shalt Cyrene! That humble casket prais'd;
Upon the mightiest lips, her name with insistent cry;
For she whose beauty, holds me amaz'd.
Because I'd die to see her, and yet in seeing her, die;
My breath fearing and still daring to defile;
In madness and insatiable greed I try;
And fail, her love's gaze to ne'er upon my ungainly style.
She said it was all over, but that longing gaze;
Would betray her love's truest guise;
I'd not hesitate to wait a thousand days;
If it was for me (oh, only me) that she did sigh.

No longer his, but still not mine;
Years'll not her age; Selene's most wondrous design.

Delgarth Temperley

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Glacian, in the year 388 AF.