For My Love She Stands
What on her disgruntle to sidetrack my dear love-
When by all means all hers are the mainspring of my joy?
Her face; yea, hers, is the mellow effulgence of moon
That sweeps away malaise out of my face
Her smiles are the wellspring of my joy
That deluge me with utter merriment
Her voice is the musical warble of my day
That hum me melodies of comfort and solace
Now all her cascading tears; give them to me
They are the quencher I slurp for my emotional aridity
O ours is the entiwed souls tried-and-true
For all she gives I atone equally
Good and bad we stick like a cockle burr in a sheep's coat
In her galling dejection--when she is as weak as a clay pigeon,
My arms I stretch for her bulwark
And I relieve seeing her guffaw like a first swimmer duckling
Who lay her hassock when she topples?
Or where else on earth is the assuagement to her throes?
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