Had we but experience, honor, and time; this diffidence Dear is no crime. We could rest and ponder which way to stroll and waste our everlasting day. Thou by the mountains sides old, should gemstones find in fortunes told. I by a tide of slumber did complain. I loved you long before the flood, the falling rain; and you still refuse until the spreading of the news.

My rose heart shouldst grow larger than empires, and you know a millenium should go to praise your fires, and in thine eyes do gaze, and stoke. Three centuries to admire your rising chest, but eternity to the rest; an eon at last to each part, and the final age to cast your heart. For Darling you've earned this state, and I love not spurned at a lower rate.