Raphael to La fornarina
My lady, come home with me.
Such stars, as they pass into view, are you.
Be my wife, be my hand at your breast.
Be passion as it stands at the station of an old love:
be its honesty, its majesty, its sight.
You must have come to honor the un-honored…
And just as my owlish soul, became yours to inhabit—
the very human hand you see before you—
I have come to need your silence, your grace:
for a room to be the house of poetry;
for a palace to grow in to;
for the timelessness in which you dwell.