The love I have for you
I lack the gift to express.
What finely wrought phrase could catch
Its strength, its depth, its tenderness.
So I must as a quiet man be
And keep my love inside,
As silent as some poor dumb beast
In whom no speech resides.
But I will follow faithfully
Wherever you abide
And my sweet joy will be
To lie down by your side.
There if I stay till death does come
Then none more rich under this sun.