My Lady has delight
For all the poems I write;
My Lady has delight,
And I am glad.

I see her eyes a-shine
On ink that came from mine;
I see her eyes a-shine,
And I’m not sad.

I feel her lips move through
My syllables so true;
Oh Dear, they are for you!
And I am glad.

Her fingers touch my kin;
I feel them like fair wind;
My rhymes now run to win,
And I’m not sad.

Her eyes upon each line—
O eyes! O eyes divine!
The sight of them is mine,
And I am glad!

Close pressed against her breast
My verses find sweet rest;
My Lady’s heart’s confessed,
And I am glad!

O Lady, Lady sweet,
Make all my rhymes complete,
Be dancings in your feet,
And I’ll be glad!