That gentle love might rise from savage lust:

There of abandon when that beast is fed

And souls in quiet contemplation lie

To craft whereof that sated beast be led;

For soon grey dawn will break the blackened sky.
Though fervent flames will end in ridden ash,
Of rare therein a lonely coal may glow
And draw upon some unseen hidden cache
Of buried fuel pure fondness may bestow;
Still like a flamelet can appear true love,
Redemption bright from trespassed ruin thereof.