Shall I spend another hour to show
In words, in sound, Your beauty to extol?
Surmount my sweet devotions with, "I know;"
And wrap my doubts in tales meant to console?
I know You not, yet these months have passed away!
Only by letters, poems, shy glances,
Pictures and tales, gifts and grins in play,
With tears, halting tales of life's lost chances.
Does it match "forever," this still shabby garment?
Oh Lover, avert your eyes and forget.
The workmanship is flawed, the seams are rent.
Crooked lines fail even your silhouette.
I'll start, anew, a mantle now sincere.
Devote words to treasures on our frontier.
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