#37 (“No rancor, I do pray. . .”)


                          No rancor, I do pray, for Paul and me.                             

                          A time of joy and peace alway—mirage?

                          Ye say?  I do hope not; o’r love, the key!

                           No issue small or great but love can dodge.

                           My Sweet’, I do love far and wide and deep.

                           My love is built on truth and admira’           

                           Most full and keen and true.  My heart doth peek

                           From out its place to hide; then ire is done.

                           So from o’r hearts we love, and quickly pass’

                           Away the mists of pain and understand’

                            Lost.  Stay so close to me that I may stash

                            My heart in twain with yours—there love doth land.

                                    A love so deep with peace its goal I see;

                                    Yea, goal so good—‘tis Heav’n for you and me!



#36 (“My Paul, a longer life let’s have alone”)


                        My Paul, a longer life let’s have alone;

                        Just two—the two of us in peace and love.

                        We may go far afield, I’m sure, to roam

                         In Florence dear, but find a place to serve

                        We must, to serve and find o’r joy in peace.

                         If life so long we are to have, a plan

                         To serve must be in place.  “And frolic cease?,”

                        Ye ask of me.  Oh, no, have both we can.

                         A plan to serve, a place to frolic in—

                        These two not contra’ be; the best of life

                        Is work and play—the twain in joy will send!

                        And, yes, for me the twain doth seem so right.

                                  A life alone, yet fill’d with joy and peace;

                                  The gods will smile and smile—in bless’ n’er cease!


#35 (“O’r love grows stronger. . .”)


                        O’r love grows stronger each the time we love!

                        “Impossible!,” ye say, “grow more, oh no!”

                        It seem’d from first we love’d complete, my Dove—

                        From first upon the step we glimps’d at door.

                        The joy was glimps’d at first, for sure, the joy

                        Complete, down years ahead—yea, all, just say.

                        “Impossible!,” ye say, down years for more.

                        Yea, paradox it be, more strong the ray

                        Of love, foreseen from start—o’r blessing full

                        This paradox indeed not less, yet more.

                        All lovers true do see of two a duel.

                        No kill, yet kill me, Love, seen first at door.

                                    Than yesterday ‘tis more, the morrow more,

                                    ‘Ere grow, sweet love! All lovers know this lore.


#34 (“I long to spend my time with Paul. . .”


                        I long to spend my time with Paul, my Sweet’.

                        I like to be in place the same alway..

                        ‘Tis been this since long ago we meet.

                        But is it best to be as One all day?

                        Perhaps we each do need some time alone.

                        This I do muse when he is gone a bit.

                        Perhaps ‘tis best to spend some time in roam.

                        Alone I muse (invite the muse); I sit.

                        Yea, time alone is best I feel if bit

                        Of time it is—not long apart we find.

                        In solitude I find myself all lithe

                        With joy I bring to him when next we dine.

                                    Moments the best are shar’d  in repas long

                                    As dine we do, together see the Dawn!


#33 (“I love you, Paul. . .”)


                        I love you, Paul, for all the times we share.

                        You are my beacon sure in good and bad.

                        O’r times do feel most good—say “Best!” I dare?

                        My time was bless’d when meet we did.  As lad

                        I wish I had met you—the one for me!

                        Since late we met we must make up o’r time,

                        So two become as one—yea, this I see!

                        Accept my love in this a sonnet rhyme.

                        I long to be the perfect wife for you!

                        Do tell me when I err in deeds I do;

                        I wish no more my deeds to mourn and rue.

                        My resolution clear, “No fuss!”—foresoo’

                                    A happy woman have ye made me true.

                                    Be good to me: Your love is such a coup!


#32 (“My Sweet’, ’tis time again to say my love. . .”)


                        My Sweet’, ‘tis time again to say my love

                        For you: the happiest of Valentine’s

                        I wish for you—my all, my joy, my “dove.”

                        Lovebirds are doves, you see, and you are mine!

                        May peace and joy and love shine all the year

                        On you and me.  A pair of doves we make

                        In truth, my Sweet’, my all, my love, my Dear.

                        On St. Val’s Day we will enjoy a cake!

                        ‘Tis true that sweets you love, my Sweet’ you are.

                        ‘Tis good to know how pleas’d ye be with me.

                        I like to hear, “I love you true”—just bar

                        The door to other loves—then me you see!

                                    I love thee true in years of time, us two;

                                    I love thee true for sure, my Sweet’, n’er rue!



#31 (“A day away is balm for soul. . .”)



                        A day away is balm for soul, I see.

                        My Paul and I did slip away and find

                        O’r fun in nearby Stillwater—the key!

                        ‘Twas day of leisure, peace, and coffee mine

                        In shops about the Croix.  Antiques so fine

                        My Paul doth love to view, though I naysay

                        And rest in peace, then meet we noon to dine.

                        In “Brine,” the café where by window, ray

                        Of sun doth shine upon o’r table small.

                        “Tis best to do the things we both enjoy

                        Then lie in wait to come when Paul makes call.

                        O’r joy doth make a meeting—strong the roar!

                                    I love o’r time as time we make for joy.

                                    O’r love is what doth quickly make the roar!






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