Place to Die

A good place to die,
'Neath the golden horn and the golden bow;
Lying with stag and hound and
Golden-nippled Diana,
Though her Love must be hard
In her fleece of white snow,
Skinned from the sky,
Matching necklace of white granular pearls;
A thousand droplets at her breast,
Before the singing gray-blue ice
Calling out her praise
As the morning star,
Bright, flying Venus,
Rival and sister,
Shone in her eye
While the sun rose.