I doth love thou with most every an ounce of mine own being
So much so yond mine own heart, nor mine own soul hath not the capacity to deny
O, I doth so hold dearly to mine own consciousness
The knowledge yond I truly beest enamored by thee, mine own dearly beloved
Is the reason I shalt subsist; ‘tis for the envy I hold for the world
And for the love of thee; I doth so deeply cherish
Our time together
And as such is true for dram to nay extant being
For thou art mine own muse, wonder of human creation to behold
With a mind full of thoughts and with a heart full of envy, love, and sorrow
We shalt over wroght
And beest ever so true to thee, I shalt beest
Nay want of yare
Nor an abundance of need
Shalt dispell the love I doth hath for thee
For it hath been writ in stone