[Someone sings in the street below] 

       Seize then thy gladness ere it turns to dust,     

       Youth can make all acts lovely, all deeds just;     

       Heed not the tyrant, lean Morality,     

       But steer thy passion down to the purple sea,     

       Through winding hills where Beauty hath her home     

       And calls to travellers, until thou come     

       Unto the Deep of Lovés Satiety.     

  

 [Leonardo da Vinci speaks] 

  

       Ha-ha, my passion to the purple sea!     

       And yet, I'd go if Mona Lisa'd come.     

       We two, close-seated in one crimson boat     

       Would drift the yellow waters of Romance,     

       Glide down its stream through hills of mystery     

       Where Beauty roams, of which the song hath     

       sung,     

       Nor ever speak of where that tide should end.     

       We'd dip no oars, we'd set no hurrying sail,     

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