She was given crystal flesh for a home.
And her windows were tremulous to visions.
Love me, love me, was her often cry.
She put lover higher than all else.
She carried series of love-birds and gave away.
Pour love deep into me.
Thus ran her cry.
Let me have all love.
She murmured this want.
Love may be toil, waste, death.
Yet come pour love deep into me.
Thus her years ran to one theme.