For those few nights she was entirely mine,
Her matrimonial vows seemed without sin,
And her responses to my verse and rhyme
Sweet notes; a virtuoso's violin.

To all else she was just a pseudonym,
For me that masquerade reached the sublime.
And in my lap like Keats' Madeline
For those few nights she was entirely mine.

That tender time when we did first recline
And I placed my dry lips upon her skin,
Then tasted of her as of vintage wine
Her matrimonial vows seemed without sin.

I took to her as an amphetamine,
for one that promised wildness, yet benign,
for she prised out a poet from within
And her responses to my verse and rhyme.

And when I knelt before her holy shrine
Her ecstasy did chant a godless hymn,
Such music still awakes me from decline,
Sweet notes; a virtuoso's violin.

Never one for gods or discipline,
And not one for the feckless concubine,
I tell to you, my love, most genuine
I will pray or else kill all my time
                         For those few nights.