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Ernest Christopher Dowson - Flos Lunae
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I would not alter thy cold eyes,
  Nor trouble the calm fount of speech
  With aught of passion or surprise.
  The heart of thee I cannot reach:
  I would not alter thy cold eyes!

  I would not alter thy cold eyes;
  Nor have thee smile, nor make thee weep:
  Though all my life droops down and dies,
  Desiring thee, desiring sleep,
  I would not alter thy cold eyes.

  I would not alter thy cold eyes;
  I would not change thee if I might,
  To whom my prayers for incense rise,
  Daughter of dreams! my moon of night!
  I would not alter thy cold eyes.

  I would not alter thy cold eyes,
  With trouble of the human heart:
  Within their glance my spirit lies,
  A frozen thing, alone, apart;
  I would not alter thy cold eyes.
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