To dearest love of mine, that has yet been:
Tho' sight reveals you not, by love I know;
Your kindly wit will bid our love be seen,
But caution to such heart before it's show;
Refrain from early use of words of love
For I will hide as night does hide the day
And echo in my wake: a mourning dove
With water drops from setting suns of may.
Yet if so patient, as does hope create
This love of yours be gifted, soft the touch
And then your tones will have no cause to wait
To shout about our love, that loves as much.

Then time's our distance, sweet and darling one
'Till then tho' I will wait, where love is numb.