Most Glorious and eternal Majesty, Thou art righteous and holy in all thou dost to the sons of men, though thou hast suffered men to condemn Thy servant, Thy servant will not condemn Thee.
Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee, and I’ll forgive Thy great big joke on me.
What name to call thee by, O virgin fair, I know not, for thy looks are not of earth And more than mortal seems thy countenances.
And all the charms of face or voice Which I in others see, Are but the recollected choice Of what I feel for thee.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!
All nature is but art unknown to thee.
There’s not a wind but whispers of thy name; And not a flow’r that grows beneath the moon, But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love.
I wish thee as much pleasure in the reading, as I had in the writing.