I never thought it possible or likely,
But see, I stood looking on, idly;
I found the effect of love-in-idleness,
And now in plainness to thee I confess.
That art to me as secret and as a dear,
Say that he frowns, I’ll say he looks as clear.
They cannot love so dear as I;
Whose sudden sight had thralled my wounded eye.
He had the jewel of my life in hold,
All books of love our story will be told;
This now no time to vent our love,
Beloved of me, and that my deeds shall prove and have.
As morning roses newly washed with dew
His eyes were hazel nut and as brown as hue
Lovelorn am struck in years, I must confess
Than words can whisper or your thought can guess.