Fragment Of A Sonnet, Found In A Note-Book Poem by Philip Henry Savage

IN company … with vital hands.
You shape the stuff which is our life, and measure
With equal pulse our golden warp of pleasure,
Our scarlet woof of pain, in scarlet strands.
As if, o'erwearied in a hundred lands,
Young Aphrodite's self, undone with leisure,
Should wield the distaff and the silken treasure
Which Clotho only … understands.
Then, Aphrodite, sister-star and wife,
Incomprehensible, enact the god.
Favor at least one mortal with your nod.
He only has enough who has to spare.
Bless me with the sweet torment of your life,
Your love, and the dear wonder of your hair.