Mosaic

"`Longing' is a word with which I am well
Acquainted, and sight of her does 'mind me
Why I must try the truth again to tell."
   (So an old poet writes again, it seems)


"For Heaven hath no beauty, Hell no flame,
Earth has no jewelry, the mind no dream
As bright nor as lovely as my dear dame."
   (To try again to pay the lover's fee.)


"If only I could love her, unceasing 
Floods would be made within her swollen seas 
And quiet channels, to drown me smiling."
   (The voice's direction, but altering)


"My promise unspoken, my touch unfelt..."
(Does speak once more from where the heart has dwelt.)