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He makes the most of the little that she gives And all she does drapes with his own delight. A glance can make his whole day wonderful, A word from her lips with happiness wings the hours. He leans on her for all he does and is: He builds on her largesses his proud fortunate days And trails his peacock-plumaged joy of life And suns in the glory of her passing smile. In a thousand ways he serves her royal needs; He makes the hours pivot around her will, Makes all reflect her whims; all is their play: This whole wide world is only he and she. This is the knot that ties together the stars: The Two who are one are the secret of all power, The Two who are one are the might and right in things. His soul, silent, supports the world and her, His acts are her commandment's registers. Happy, inert, he lies beneath her feet: His breast he offers for her cosmic dance Of which our lives are the quivering theatre, And none could bear but for his strength within, Yet none would leave because of his delight. His works, his thoughts have been devised by her, His being is a mirror vast of hers: Active, inspired by her he speaks and moves; His deeds obey her heart's unspoken demands: Passive, he bears the impacts of the world As if her touches shaping his soul and life: His journey through the days is her sun-march; He runs upon her roads; hers is his course. A witness and student of her joy and dole, A partner in her evil and her good, He has consented to her passionate ways, He is driven by her sweet and dreadful force. His sanctioning name initials all her works; 
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