To Pamela

Come to me but only with a smitten heart, And I shall open mine before you depart; Or say the magic words but within a prose And say something about the scent of the rose. The love that from your heart still grows Must not die as the envious wind blows; But if there’s anything I’d ask you to do, I would never ask you to be untrue. I blow you late a goodnight kiss, To show how much love in me there is; But guilty of love and anger, your soul draws back – Whether too little or too much, my love shan’t slack. My soul tells the heart, the heart tells the mind That love is so cute but love is so blind; Anarchy of thoughts, love and pride, all bemused – There’s no love as proper as mine to remain abused. But be kind, I would never dare distraught thee As I hope that you’ll soon and forever be with me; Be just and bid me welcome into your life – And hand me joy by accepting to be my wife. No feeling of love from me to you shall withered be; Say not that I said it not without courtesy or glee, Because ever since I told you that I love you, and swore, You’ve scourged me more than you’ve ever done before.