Your regard is the white
Of my lily coat,
The white of Helen's marble vase,
The soft of Luna's palest truth.

Your regard is the creeper
That binds my feet in roses,
That ties me close to Mother's heart,
That keeps me sane in Father's glass.

Your regard is the hour
Of tea time in the pagoda,
The hour only we have lived.
The hour not of human birth.

Cool and safe in the pale of sleep,
Calm and wise under Brahma's gaze,
I ponder the moon in my lily coat
And bask in your regard.

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