Would it then please if I, your Valentine

Should proffer love upon a bended knee,

And might you then, by ardor’s grace divine

There clasp that heart bestowed so graciously?

And pray, would you adore the flowers I bring

Or wear with joy the tokens that I bear?

Why then perhaps the sweetest birds might sing

As love now bravely knocks upon your door.

Alas—I fear you scarcely know my name,

For still I worship you from realms afar;

Not timid fervor but some fear within

Keeps that door closed, though it seems left ajar.

I stand here fettered by my own love’s might—

By limbs made weak each time you grace my sight.