Come and Let Us Mark Our Measure
What magic will our lives compel,
dear mistress to my willing muse,
in this, the kingdom of our pleasure,
where less is more and more is need,
and one to one is present gain.
Come and let us mark our measure
hard against the wall of heaven,
the past in all its parted treasons.
Let time’s flight subtract the leaven,
and do its best to best discount--
our numbered knot’s alchemical:
here we two as one are fused,
a mathematics of the double heart,
clearly co-signs in a single part.