**Starts from the end of the original poem**
And so with gentle graces we
With eternally preserved love enter
Into our un-noticing dear society,
My love toted with balanced center
May visit with the fine gentry members
And delight all with her agreeable visage.
Porphyria beside me, sitting sentry,
I stare adoringly at her unblinking image.
Other marriagers scowl with envy:
Never made in recordable recency,
Has there been more perfect a match than we
Our union’s success requires no evidence …
Our sole disparagers nevertheless disagree,
Because one crowd remains unconvinced:
Porphyria’s fellow women gaze upon us since
Of the verity of our adoration,
They will not be made to believe, instead
With fear, frightful in their admiration.
They avoid the sapphires within her head
Almost as if they believe her dead!