Those who like a handkerchief drop
And fall in love,
I envy you.
And those who for their coy mistresses
Have world enough,
I envy you.

My feet don't fit in Romeo boots,
A sighing furnace I scarce be.

So though you may walk in beauty,
Don't hold your tongue in hope of love -
For when you think I am loving,
I am not drowning but waving.

Though in the past, many a once
A phantom of delight I met,
A red, red rose,
A summer's day,
A lover to me could have been -
Then what can ail me? But,
The ice was all between.

The moment froze,
And she stayed fair:
And no lovers gone in the storm.

When I arise from dreams of you,
All passion spent,
Exacting love;
A hollow head, my muse is fled.
Now what verses compose I can?

Diction-less I raid the treasures -
Stoic lover turned marauder -
The realms of gold,
The Gods above,
Until in words from Amareh
My love's consummation I saw.

My muse! My love!

"I'll hide within my poems as I write them,
Hoping to kiss your lips as you recite them."