Close your eyes, my love, let me make you blind;  
      They have taught you to see  
Only a mean arithmetic on the face of things,  
A cunning algebra in the faces of men,  
      And God like geometry          
Completing his circles, and working cleverly.  
  
I'll kiss you over the eyes till I kiss you blind;  
      If I can—if any one could.  
Then perhaps in the dark you'll have got what you want to find.  
You've discovered so many bits, with your clever eyes,        
      And I'm a kaleidoscope  
That you shake and shake, and yet it won't come to your mind.  
Now stop carping at me.—But God, how I hate you!  
      Do you fear I shall swindle you?  
Do you think if you take me as I am, that that will abate you        
Somehow?—so sad, so intrinsic, so spiritual, yet so cautious, you  
Must have me all in your will and your consciousness—  
      I hate you.