Sonnet I

If ever love, in time, your words increased
Or never more to me did sweetly say,
Your words in time would never all decease
Or fall, gall, or die by tragic way.

Yet never have I said the words
Your tender ears could not caress.
If only my songs could fly like birds
To your warm heart in its distress.

When silence breaks, our lovers’ words then said,
So tenderly ending the hush and hope and pain.
This heart of mine, still broken, bare and dead,
Would melt, or fade, like streaming tears through rain.

So seldom do we lovers say
What human hearts and souls do pray.