Oh, my gentle copier, whom I love so,
My Princess, Love, and Lady all in one,
I’m up at dawn to see the climbing glow
That comes from you, who are my rising sun.
It’s nine o’clock at night where now you are,
And if you tire of copying, take a break;
Then if I see a blinking morning star
I’ll know that you are smiling for my sake.
Yet for yours, too, who happy are to write
And make a treasure of my love’s pure might.
Oh, treasured love of mine, my rich’s soul,
Oh miracle of life, my angel, dear,
You rest, and my blue sky has grown more whole;
You write, and all day’s flowers re-appear!