To my Woman

I will love you more today
as I do wake in the morn with bright eyes,
what will be for it to bloom I cannot say
no more than human hands have on the garden plot in the sky.

to sail the seas and never to find
caught in the glimpse of a bleak boat,
the whistle into the mist that gleams and cozen as waves the night shines,
and I sink into your heart, gripped, softly, with faithful hands both.

when orchards in your wild heart rowing
the kiss on my cheek cold, silence, and tears,
taste a pair of pears that throughout the night showing,
daylight coming,  do I, yon with wrinkled lips share yours dew-drunk near.

ah! nameless grace,
what dreams your face.