My Deep-Sighing Muse

Somber, my Muse breathes a profound, deep sigh; silent, I just observe and don't ask why. Her sigh belies her true, blithesome desire, for she's forever near to just inspire. Though sad, she sees me in the cool of morn by brook and bower where I once felt torn: she, lighter from the promise of my love, soars towards me like an enamored dove. And I, reposed nearby the babbling brook and bower (far, far from the tow'ring rook!), motion her hither, my deep-sighing Muse: for if she's beckoned, she won't then refuse to be my undying Muse till I'm dead, when by all I'll be studied and well-read. So all the world will know how I so yearned, and in my lines see how for her I burned!