To the Austere by Mary Corringham

Let us not raze the barrier,
   Though souls be rigidly confined;
I would not know what secrets stir
   Within the precincts of your mind.
(How profiteth the trespasser,
   Since love is fleeting as the wind?)

Let us not clasp impatient hands
   For the brief sweetness of the flesh,
They who are free of passion-bands
   Find other nectar to refresh.

The spirit walks a secret way;
   No tended veil, no shattered wall
Shall yield where her strange footpaths stray,
   Nor how, for answer, one must call.

Albeit unguarded your defence,
   All is most sacred unto me,
That dwelleth in the white, immense
   Realm of your soul ... thus are we free.

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 24 September 1932

Author reference site: Austlit

See also.