A second time I drew her 'cross the Veil, And shared a walk, a dance, a stolen kiss; With such a perfect beauty, pure and pale, No woman could compare, no man resist. Then in my weakness I essayed a third, Tho' magisters their warnings did impart. She broke my binding with a single word, And said this smiling as she clutched my heart: "Though love I was, your passion's changing fire Has forged this spirit into cruel Desire." —Sonnet 126, "The Lover and His Spirit", from A Chant for Dreamers by Magister Oratius