The Amulet

T
Thou twist of gold, woven so curiously,
Be filled with warmth and urgent tenderness,
And cool not on her throat’s white nakedness,
Like metal death, but burn insistently,
Reminding her of me!

To save her from the serpent’s little eye
I set a stone of blue chalcedony
Within a cunning loop—so it shall be
Aware and mindful when her lashes lie
Untaught of danger nigh.

To keep her from the dragon’s hungry tooth
In seven laps the quorls were subtly twined;
From seven rivers grains of gold were mined,
Hammered by black elves’ mauls, and tempered sooth
In hissing brews uncouth.

So lie within my satchel, Amulet,
With many another dull and boughten thing,
Till I am done with all my wandering
And fix thee pendant on the carcanet
Around her white neck set.

For I have graven some small incantation
In feathery lines upon this rounded wire—
King Solomon made such for his desire,
And Sheba’s throat was warm for subjugation
Hearing the King’s translation.

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