The poet, once a pauper, yet bold and true,
Had nothing but verses, the world to construe.
She, my love, born to fortune's embrace,
Found love, not wealth, her ultimate grace.

One day, he spoke with a heart weighed and torn,
"To wed thee, love, I am too forlorn.
I lack the means to offer a vow."
But steadfast, she answered, "We’ll wed anyhow."

"With me," he warned, "thy joys shall decay,
For I own not even the bread of the day."
But she, undaunted, with courage replied,
"I’d suffer alone, though my wealth is my guide."

And thus they were wed, a union divine,
A love forged in truths that both did refine.
For he whispered words so pure and sincere,
"I seek no vanity nor pleasures mere,

But a bond wherein my soul may confide,
As though with myself in a room closed inside."