For My Love She Stands

What on her disgruntle to sidetrack my dear love- When by all means all hers are the mainspring of my joy? Her face; yea, hers, is the mellow effulgence of moon That sweeps away malaise out of my face Her smiles are the wellspring of my joy That deluge me with utter merriment Her voice is the musical warble of my day That hum me melodies of comfort and solace Now all her cascading tears; give them to me They are the quencher I slurp for my emotional aridity O ours is the entiwed souls tried-and-true For all she gives I atone equally Good and bad we stick like a cockle burr in a sheep's coat In her galling dejection--when she is as weak as a clay pigeon, My arms I stretch for her bulwark And I relieve seeing her guffaw like a first swimmer duckling Who lay her hassock when she topples? Or where else on earth is the assuagement to her throes?