Of things I long to tell her I speak not lest spoke too soon.
How and when to speak them I beseech of thee bright moon          
Pray cast your cool lucidity into my mental eye,
And cleanse my soul with teardrops that sobbing spirits cry.
Impart to me thy wisdom gleaned from gleaned from countless    
eons past.
The knowledge of the universe you've methodically amassed.    
Grant me but a sliver of your eloquence and grace,
That I might speak my heart to her when next I see her face.