While trying to compete with your fair hair
of burnished gold, the sun shines out in vain
while, with belittlement, out on the plain
your brow attracts an Easter-lily's glare.

While each of your red lips takes in more stares
than the carnation, now in bloom again
and while your lovely neck wins with disdain
against the ivory, however rare.

Enjoy then, neck and hair and lip and brow,
enjoy the things your golden age has bought:

Then you and all these things life will endow
to earth, to smoke, to dust, to shade, to nought.