Jasmine's Beautiful Thoughts Underneath The Willow
--Wallace Stevens 

My titillations have no foot-notes
And their memorials are the phrases
Of idiosyncratic music. 

The love that will not be transported
In an old, frizzled, flambeaud manner,
But muses on its eccentricity, 

Is like a vivid apprehension
Of bliss beyond the mutes of plaster,
Or paper souvenirs of rapture, 

Of bliss submerged beneath appearance,
In an interior ocean's rocking
Of long, capricious fugues and chorals.