#53 (“Love ye do give to me alway'”)

 

                        Love ye do give to me alway’ my Sweet’

                        Love I do give to ye alway’, my Dove.

                        ’Tis best for us to live in joy, to keep

                        O’r twain as one in peace, in joy, in love.

                        I take delight in time with thee alway.

                        It is the best to me that life can bring.

                        O’r time tonight wilt be such fun this day

                        My hope for ye is full, my Sweet’, my king.

                        Know alway that ’tis ye I love in truth.

                        I find such joy in life with ye each day.

                        ’Tis long that we have been in love, foresooth          

                        ’Tis best the thing e’er to me been, I say.

                                    Keep joy and peace and love in heart for me.

                                    I to thee wilt keep same for thee, you see!

 

2/14/2009

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#52 (“In thanks I write to you today. . .”)

           In thanks I write to you today, my dear–

           For computer new I have with me.

           I do work hard to make it work, I mere

           Computer novice that I am, you see.

           I love to play with my new toy indeed.

           But joy all more I have tonight at dine

           O’r love has grown in years from a mere seed.

           We are for sure, tonight just one in kind.

           I am forsooth just having fun with toy.

           You sleep in peace while I do play, not work.

           You need do nothing now, my dear, no more

           To make my day a blest one with your look.

                Be sweet, my dear, and let us dine tonight.

                To celebrate the day in pleasure right!

 

7/12/2013

#51 (“Ye say ye don’t have birthdays. . .”)

 

Ye say ye don’t have birthdays sweet n’ere more
But wait!  Ye have a wife who’ll not forget.
Put on a happy face, my dear, not dour.
We will enjoy today indeed, and kick!
Birthdays are not to fail to see the joy
Of life we live together strong and true.
N’er rue the day, my Sweet, but give a roar
Of pleasure, peace, and happiness as lure.
I promise not to tell the year of birth
If secret ye do wish to keep from all.
Be proud of date, instead, my dear, no curse.
Maturity ye have, good judgment call.
     I love thee, alway, all time, true and good.
     I chase away a sad, abiding mood.

9/28/2016

#50 (“I wish ye well alway’, my Sweet. . .”)

                        I wish ye well alway’, my Sweet’, my Love’.

                        Blessings we have abundant, full and sweet.

                        Most times good health ye have complete, my Dove.

                        Most recently we have health poor and bleak.

                        But times will change so soon for us, foresooth.

                        We will be well and bright again right ‘way.

                        I hope in days ahead no cough uncouth.

                        I hope your day we be both fine, we may.

                        A happy birthday I do wish for you.

                        A day delight’ and sweet with blessings full.

                        No cold to mar o’r day, nothing to rue.

                        I love thee true on this, the day you rule.

                                    This verse so poor is ’cause I sick ye see.

                                    Next time a better poem ye get from me.

 9/28/2011

#49 (“On this, the day for love, my heart doth sing. . .”)

 

                        On this, the day for love, my heart doth sing.

                        Ye are my Sweet’ alway’, my love so true!

                        I love thee much, my dear:  Look, see, my ring!

                        Most beauteous  is it, dearest mine—I coo!

                        Yea, romance I do see with us in twain.

                        In Oxford life so good will be for sure.

                        In dream I saw this truth of sun, no rain.

                        Miss’ippi sun will be the best of cure’.

                        Together we will meet life rich with joy.

                        No tears to mar our days for we are two

                        As one!  Always’ we be!  ‘Tis true—not coy!

                                    I bless my luck with you, my dear, my love!

                                    Forever we be one, my Sweet’, my Dove!

 2/14/2005

#47 (“My Sweet’, dear Paul, my spouse for life. . .)

 

                        My Sweet’, dear Paul, my spouse for life for sure;

                        A happy birthday wish for you—in truth!

                        Ye are a wise man sure; therefore don’t rue

                        The day because time marcheth on—foresooth!

                        O’r days do seem so fill’d with promise clear.

                        Big choice we make this month just past for us.

                        Now house ye get for day of birth—no mere

                        Abode, but fill’d with promise true.  We must

                        Be grateful for o’r bounty full it is!

                        Much promise good for two we find in Miss’.

                        I love thee much and long for more in years

                        As wife of yours who oft’ doth reach for kiss!

                                    “If this be error and upon me proved;

                                    I never write, nor no man ever loved!”

9/21/2004

#46 (“We wait for Christmas cheer!. . .)

                          We wait for Christmas cheer!  The day is but

                          Foretaste of joy divine—like grape delight!

                          The fruit of gods and us—we soon do sup!

                          The white of snow about; o’r world is bright!

                          To sup with grapes so sweet is nectar sure.

                          To look about at snow is further boon.

                          We live a life sublime, my Sweet’, no rue

                          The day at all—my Sweet’.  A hug comes soon.

                           A meal divine we have, in snug house warm.

                           The cold of snow delights from room so fine.

                           To end the day in peace and joy—no mourn!

                          ‘Tis gift of gods, I say, that yes are mine!

                                    We live together charm’d, my Sweet’, indeed.

                                    No fault we find with path upon we lead.

12/14/2003