How much in life you've given me,
in many ways you taught my pen,to paint
inner truths notation, not the outward view,
though thy visage would please the scultures grace,
who would, then, on some high pedestal place,
for all to see, a womanly face so true,
a countenance, times passage fail to taint,
and, in onward years, men your loveliness see,
through the inner eye, this pen its pleasures known,
lifes guiding light, love filled inspiration,
when hearts unite in true consumation,
blank once, the paper now with sonnets sown,

I, raised from low stock is true,
but wisdom accrued, is in loving you.