Here now fair claimed in simple lines of love

Knowing sweet ardor cannot condense to words,

This gift is all I have, dear heart, to move—

In poems and prayers, perhaps a soul is heard.

What might I write to claim your gentle hand?

What verse so scribed might strike a cherished chord?

What pearled words would yet be viewed as grand:

Please bless this pen, I beg of you dear Lord!

If silent ink may stir a stolid heart,

If  simple notes may yet resound in praise,

If loving breath can warm through lyric art

Then your dear precious soul this rune may sway;

Tendered here, fond musings meek yet bold,

Where missives such may win a heart of gold.