What book?
It’s number three!

My love Clarinda speeds along,
So happy in her writing, strong,
She sure must see she is to me
A peerless line of poetry!

And not just line, but stanza, too,
And every rhyme of “true” and “you”,
With every “you” a part of me—
My truest heart of poetry!

Clarinda, dear, my only one,
My lovely, writing, night-time sun,
I send to you all joys that be
And bless you with my poetry!

What book? Three1
No! It’s four!
Hey, look alive!
She’s on to five!