This Pale Blue Egg

Because you are beautiful and do not tempt me,
Like some who have most flagrantly,
This pale blue egg to you I give.
I do not trust the players upon flutes,
The silver anklets and the batting eyes:
For I have grown more cunning far
And so my arms are linkéd with a Star,
Whose faery innocence I cannot scry,
Whose bosom hides a sprig of cherries white,
Whose face is all the colours of the dawn.
I do not trust the words upon a page
Unless of honey they do taste;
My library therefore, does look as if
There is no cat within the house,
But very ravenous a mouse;
For men speak from the inside out,
Whereof I can with ancient certitude attest.
Do not, I beg you please, be careless with that egg:
It is the only one.